


Monsters

by Polywantsanother



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse, BDSM, Eldritch, M/M, Paperhat - Freeform, Shapeshifting, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polywantsanother/pseuds/Polywantsanother
Summary: Eldritch Horror AUWhat's a villain without a desire to correct an injustice done to them?What's a hero but one who puts themselves in danger for the one they love?Black Hat understands that humans work in a binary but to him, there is no right or wrong. There is only what he wants.





	1. Introduction

He was young.

Of beings with no end, there was also no point marking a beginning within any linear concept of time. But there he was, young, and in his youth, was voracious and exuberant. He had not ruled and so was not tempered by the weight of ruling. He exalted himself in his own mind, and had not grown weary of broken bodies kneeling through domination. Instead, he desired things and if the older ones had bothered, they may have called him naive. But they were asleep.

He was awake.

He was awake and yearning. He was nameless, formless, and with all things that lacked the proper boundaries, he wanted to consume. He represented the perfect form of the Divine Sins, all circling in harmony around a giant maw. He wanted to escape this dusty forever twilight and touch things.

It was easy enough to leave the chamber. The only reason why the others didn’t leave is because they were asleep. Once awakened, they would leave this realm for the mortal realm and follow the nature of their being.

He did not want that.

He wanted to savor the mortal realm, which meant that he had to make a few concessions.

He took a form, which made him mortal. Granted, it would be nearly impossible to slay him, but he knew it could be done. Regardless, he took a form that would not break minds. He was vain enough to copy a stylish human, but prideful enough to maintain his inkpot skin and carnivore teeth.

He was unsettling.

He gave himself a name and claimed a hill. He built his house, and it was like something from a cartoon. That too was unsettling, to see such a thing ripped away from its common medium and forced into mortal reality.

Reality meant nothing to him and he found himself curling into the corners on the ceiling when he was restless. It meant nothing to him as he watched how things followed a certain pattern in the city around him. Things that went up, came down. Things that were bad, were removed by things that were good. Things in the darkness disappeared in the light.

He was bored.

He had no interest in destruction. He was, in his youth, more prone to mischief. What would happen if things tossed in the air didn’t land? If shadows lingered? If the bad things fought their removal?

He needed minions.

Like their God, he collected one male, and one female. The male was timid, fearful, and wore a bag on his head. He had known of human idioms, and found it humorous to see one literally displayed.

The female, was loud. There were things missing inside of her and he enjoyed the cracks and hollows left behind. For a time. Soon, it began to grate, but she was his. He had claimed them.

Then came the experiments, the mishaps, the chaos, and the bear. 

He settled.

But he still felt desire. It eluded him, as it was nameless, formless. And, as it is with things that lack boundaries, it consumed him.

“Doctor.” Black Hat strode into the room and it darkened as he did. The man in the white coat jumped, cringed, and turned slowly.

“Yes? Sir?” Doctor Flug stammered, slowly twisting the papers in his hands. Black Hat eyed him, then moved away to toy with a beaker on the counter.

“Before you came to me you were, mistreated.” Black Hat focused on the word, rolling the beaker with one long finger.

Flug did not respond.

“Do you think I am weak for preying on old wounds?” Black Hat asked. He could hear the doctor’s very human heart hammering in the frail body. Housed under ribs that were no more stalwart than a twig under his hands, Black Hat was often amused by mortal anatomy,

“Weak sir?” Flug repeated. Black Hat stilled the beaker and faced the doctor.

“Threats are empty when there’s no hint of follow through. Yet my threats stand on the follow through of others. Does it make me weak, as I have never hurt you?” He laid his hand down on the counter and slowly tapped his fingers, one by one. He could see the faint outline of Flug’s eyes behind the darkened goggles, and they flicked down to the fingers. They had altered, becoming black knives protruding from a hand.

_ Tap-tap-tap-tap _

Flug shuddered so deeply that his shoulders curled inward. Black Hat smiled.

“Do you know why I won’t hurt you Flug?” He asked as he still tapped the counter. Flug shook his head. “Because I like seeing you tremble.” He took his bladed hand and brought it up, watching Flug’s eyes follow. He slowly moved to the doctor’s face, lightly caressing the blades over his cheek. Black Hat grinned and as Flug whimpered, he laughed. His hand returned to its default human form, and he playfully slapped Flug’s cheek. 

“Get back to work.” Black Hat said and turned sharply to leave.

“Yes sir.” Came the breathy reply.

The empty maw ran teeth along his insides.

~

Black Hat knew of the slumbering others the same way he knew himself, by existence. He found that he could hardly call such apathetic creatures evil, though the legends surrounding them made them sound like evil incarnate. He had come to learn that evil was more accurately defined as things that upset the stability of a society and usually involved people dying. Dying was unique among the humans; one was not allowed to kill another but neither was anyone allowed to kill themselves. They threw their lives at the feet of indifferent time and Black Hat was disgusted. A murder made a more poignant end to a person’s life and was more notable than dying in their sleep at a decrepit age. 

It seemed wasteful to him.

What angered him then, were those who tried to resist attempts at dislodging the status quo. Those who benefited from the limited lives of the humans around them, which seemed like an unfair trade. They stood and openly professed that how things were was the Right Way, yet they lived outside of that way. 

Instead of being directly involved, Black Hat preferred to toss in variables. Sometimes that meant lending out Demencia. Sometimes that meant selling gadgets and weaponry that no mortal could create. 

There were benefits to living with a creature that existed outside of the physical realm, bound by physics and earthly chemicals. There were times that it proved too much for the poor doctor’s mind, and so there were failures. But those failures allowed Black Hat to savor something more personal, more intimate, and he didn’t particularly mind them. 

As long as his mad scientist was happy, he was happy.

And he could be happy. He found that the idea of a morally mandated rule of who gets to be happy to infuriate him as well. He was evil and could be happy. He certainly knew he could experience pleasure. These weren’t things only allowed to people existing within the fence of society. 

Just as cruelty wasn’t limited to those outside of it.

Dr. Flug didn’t wear the bag to hide his identity. His previous employers knew his name, saw the same advertisements that showed his well-known lanky form. And neither was it to hide any disfigurement.

Their abuse would always be well hidden.

Black Hat wasn’t particularly interested in human psychology, but he did not like what Flug represented. The idea that cruelty could only belong to those who were evil and if the majority called a person good, then they wouldn’t believe any accusation of habits belonging to the outsiders. 

Their heroes could never be evil. Obviously, with where Flug ended up, he had done something to deserve it. It wasn’t abuse, it was justice.

On and on and on.

If Black Hat thought the apathetic couldn’t be evil, and believed himself to be evil, then he knew he was invested enough in this realm. He didn’t feel remorse or sorrow or guilt, but he still wished he had noticed the depth of Flug’s terror when he yelled and threatened. In the beginning, to Black Hat, it was just hilarious to see a human quake in terror.

The humor was lost when he realized the terror wasn’t his own doing but rooted in the past actions of others. And by the ones he so greatly despised. 

He had expected Flug to notice that no real injury was forthcoming at his threats - though he surely threw the man around - and that the doctor would build up some kind of tolerance to it. So when he didn’t, Black Hat pried.

He restrained himself, though there were times when he grabbed the doctor’s arm and the human’s breathing changed. It was a change that made him hungry. 

Now he was planning. How to seek revenge on the ones who broke his doctor. And how to make sure his doctor only trembled for him.

~

“FLUG!” Black Hat bellowed and he heard, with no small amount of glee, as glass shattered from the lab. 

“Yes sir?” The bag and goggles peered around the doorframe. Black tentacles curled around a body and lifted it up. Flug stepped fully out into the hallway and wiped his gloved hands on his coat. 

“Do you know this one?” Black Hat questioned. The tentacles were more tapped into his subconsciousness and therefore seemed to move of their own accord. Now, they twisted over the thick body of the man. Eyes and slavering mouths opened and shut at various points on the limbs, and the green liquid they all produced started to scorch whatever it touched.

Flug kept his eyes on the figure being held aloft.

“That’s Sting Shadow. He’s not in the League.” Flug replied. From this distance, and with the ever present creeping darkness, Black Hat could not see behind the goggles.

“But do you know this one?” He insisted. Flug shook his head. Black Hat scoffed in irritation and had to restrain his tentacles from popping the body they held. 

“The villain with the western theme said this one recognized your work. He showed up a few minutes ago.” Black Hat said.

“The Cowboy.” Flug corrected and Black Hat stared at him blandly. Flug coughed into his fist and Black Hat let out an exaggerated sigh.

“This would be a lot easier if you would just give me  _ names _ .” Black Hat seethed and tossed the body of Sting Shadow behind him. The robots would collect it and deposit it outside of the premises. If he was still alive, then he could simply walk away after he woke up.

“That, it isn’t anything you need to worry about Boss.” Flug said softly. Black Hat clipped through time and space, suddenly appearing in front of Flug. The doctor yelped and jumped back, but Black Hat caught him by his shirt and lifted him up.

“You don’t get to tell me what to spend my time on little doctor.” He stated and Flug nodded. “I can feel your nightmares, did you know that? I would like them to stop.” Flug hung his head.

“I’m sorry sir.” The doctor said, still so softly. Black Hat sneered. He called his tentacles out and they ensnared the doctor just as they did the hero a moment before. But they entwined him gently and the doctor gasped.

One small tendril rolled over Flug’s shoulder and crawled up his neck, sneaking under the bag. It moved up his cheek and around the back of his head.

The human’s breathing changed again.

“Are you enjoying this Flug?” Black Hat asked idly. Through his flesh, Black Hat could feel Flug’s fear. It was sharp and biting. Black Hat smiled.

“Do I not horrify you Flug?” He asked and tightened his grip just slightly. 

“Sir…” Flug’s breathing hitched. “I… no. You don’t.” 

The maw inside of Black Hat had a name, it had a form, but now it became focused on consuming just one thing. One tentacle wrapped its way up Flug’s right leg. He pulled the doctor’s body to his own and immediately placed his mouth on Flug’s neck. The doctor gasped again as Black Hat gently pushed his teeth against the straining flesh.

The resistance was more satisfying than the thought of actually breaking the human’s body. The skin held, his muscles flexed against constriction, and his breathing was rapid as Black Hat moved a tentacle from behind Flug’s head to down around his throat.

Just as that tentacle began to slowly tighten, Black Hat lifted his face up.

“Give me a name Flug.” He whispered. His limbs tightened around the doctor’s body. “Submit.” 

“Please. Sir I, I can’t.” Flug said. A rush of anger and Black Hat clenched. Flug choked and his gloved hands slipped against the rubbery flesh of the tentacle at his throat. Black Hat relaxed and Flug took in a gulping breath.

“You will not submit to me Flug?” Flug sputtered and didn’t say anything. Black Hat released the man, and he fell to the floor in a heap. “How disappointing.”

“Sir, I’m yours but-” Flug started but stopped short as Black Hat hissed, cracking his jaw lower and pulling his lips back. Rows of too many teeth, all pointed, gleamed against the darkness of his mouth. Black Hat composed himself, recalling the the tentacles into the depths of his long coat, and adjusted his tie.

“You’re not mine if you bear the mark of others so prominently.” He looked down at Flug. “If you see Demencia, send her to me.”

With that, Black Hat stepped around Flug and walked to the staircase. He heard Flug pick himself up and make his way back into the lab. The maw gnawed at him and Black Hat’s lip curled up in a sneer.

He had made his mad scientist unhappy.

~

By the time Demencia burst into his office, Black Hat had done his preliminary research. He clicked off his computer and turned his chair as Demencia clambered onto his desk. She reclined leisurely and leered at him.

Her desire was too straightforward to be interesting. 

“You wanted me?” She asked and Black Hat sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head.

“Some members of the League of Superpowered Citizens have harmed Dr. Flug.” Black Hat said and Demencia sniffed. Her eyes narrowed though she maintained a languor in her body.

“Would you like me to go visit them?” Demencia inquired. Black Hat laid his head on the back of the chair, feeling the muscles in his arms stretch. It would take him ages to get used to a mortal body.

“I don’t know who they are.” He rolled his head sideways to look at her. “And you are far too inept at successfully utilizing torture to find that information out for me.” Demencia sat up, nodding.

“That is true. It is so much  _ fun _ to just rip them apart.” She said. Black Hat turned back to look up at the ceiling. 

“I want you to go find me someone who can, assist me.” He said. 

“Sure thing Boss.” Demencia hopped off the desk and started for the door.

“One more thing Demencia.” Black Hat sat up and swiveled toward his computer. “I want you to find out as much as possible about the club Velvet Box.” Demencia threw a sloppy salute and marched out of the office, slamming the door behind her. 

Black Hat eyed an intercom at the edge of his desk. It ran directly to the lab. With a sigh, Black Hat pushed himself away from his desk and walked to the door.

He would have to wait for the time being.


	2. Information

In the house, the upper level was an observatory. A wide open floor with a very high ceiling that allowed Black Hat to showcase various gadgets. The middle level was his; his office, his study, and his bedroom where he did not sleep. The lower level was split between the laboratory with Flug’s sleeping quarters, and Demencia’s rooms. 

The late night hours held an innocent fascination for Black Hat. His humans needed sleep, as did most of the life on this dying planet. And for some reason, most of the species had all agreed that nighttime was for sleeping. So things got quiet.

Black Hat could still hear the gentle vibrato of the cars outside. They lived adjacent to a city so there was never truly any silence at any time. But the air was quieter and hung heavier. Shadows that clung to the corners during the day, now swung freely. They swayed as he passed them, like effervescent cobwebs. The stairs did not creak underfoot, knowing to stay silent under the footfalls of their master. For the others, they would groan loudly, the wood resisting being stepped on. 

As he stepped onto the first floor, he stopped. The air was thick with a miasma he could feel coating his skin. Dreams were not in his purview, he was about wanting.

Black Hat moved into the lab, decked out in brushed metal and glass. No reflections could be held in any of the shiny surfaces. The air here was also thick, and twisting. There was pain, anger, and terror sending spikes out along creeping tendrils. 

The lab curved and in an area that was placed under the wide staircase, was Flug’s room. The ceiling was heavily slanted, and on the higher places were hung model airplanes. Other posters and pictures were hung betwixt and between blueprints, schematics, and other diagrams. 

The room only held a desk, a large metal armoire, and a small bed. On the bed, lay the figure of the broken doctor. The nightmares spewing from Dr. Flug’s mind crashed into him. He could do nothing about them, but poked a bit in Flug’s head. What did the doctor want?

It always came down to the simplest of human urges; he wanted to be held. As he watched the doctor, Black Hat went to the desk and undid his tie. Comfort was an odd thing, since his body was purely constructed to be a tactile absorber. He felt everything, wanted to feel everything, regardless of comfort. As he assimilated, however, habits to keep up appearances soon became preferences of comfort. 

Before getting into bed, he needed to remove some articles. So off came the tie, the vest, the top hat, the gloves, and the button down shirt. The bowler hat stayed, a wry statement that he was no simple human, and he kicked off his shoes. 

Getting into bed was easy, since he could bend it to his will. Oozing over the doctor, Black Hat took his place behind the man’s curving spine. He smoothed away Flug’s errant hair, and Black Hat laid his head on the pillow. Putting his arms around Flug, he pulled the doctor to his chest. The breathing became softer. The miasma started to dissipate. Flug relaxed.

Humans needed to worry about making pacts with demons, even in their sleep.

Black Hat always extorted a price. 

Sleeping was a tricky thing for Black Hat. As was common with his type, sleep was a sucking thing that would pull him in for eons. He didn’t want to lose himself, and so he stayed awake. It wasn’t as if he had a truly human body that needed rest.

But he got bored. 

He first thought about business. He was having Dr. Flug work on a cloaking device in any downtime the man might have. They had tried twice before to launch their death ray into space, but some government had shot it down before it even broke the stratosphere. If they could find a way to send it up, they wouldn’t have to worry about commissions for a long time.

A lot of the doctor’s time was taken up by those self same commissions. By their very nature, superheroes and villains were a showy lot, so they wanted something with more style than automatic submachine guns and explosives. Black Hat could respect that, finding that most murders were routine and therefore boring. And this was after recognizing that murder was the more entertaining way for a person to go out.

The problem was, a lot of people wanted to be a villain, but not many of them wanted to put actually work into their villainy. They needed mad scientists, but they are rogue agents, seeking to release their own form of evil upon the world. So finding one that was willing to work as a henchman was a matter of scarcity.

He had found Flug though the sheer force of the human’s wanting.

They met in an alley, where Flug was coughing up blood and bile. Black Hat was venturing out of his home for the first time and had been overwhelmed by all of the desire he felt in the city. Everyone always wanted something. But this man, his wanting was so small, yet forceful. He wanted it to end. He wanted to fly.

“Would you like to make a deal?” Black Hat put both hands on the head of his cane and leaned forward. Flug turned his head, his paper bag pushed up far enough on his face to free his mouth. The goggles were rucked up, but there was a thin line of sight from where the bag tented over the bridge of his nose.

Flug said nothing at first, but turned his face back toward the ground, and spat. 

“Who are you?” Flug asked. He had used one arm to brace himself against the wall as he hunched over, heaving. His other arm braced his gut. 

“That name is Black Hat. And I can give you what you want.” Black Hat said with a small bow. “All you need to do is strike a bargain.” Flug laughed weakly, wiped his mouth on the back of a shaky hand, and stood.

“What are you, the devil?” The doctor still gripped his side, his arm barring his stomach. Internal injuries then. Perhaps a few broken ribs. His breathing was fine, so the sponge-like matter of his lungs were probably clear.

“If that’s what you want to think, sure. Though I’m not interested in souls. More in, satisfying desires.” Black Hat paused, thinking on the human mythology. “An Incubus if you will.” 

A surprising laugh broke out of Flug, but it was quickly followed by a racking cough. If the lungs were fine, then maybe there was damage to the diaphragm. For fuck’s sake, there were too many ways for a mortal to be broken.

“So do we have a deal?” Black Hat continued when the coughing had abated. 

“You don’t even know what I want.” Flug retorted. Black Hat grinned. His smile was filled with too many teeth, all of them sharp. 

“You want to escape.” Black Hat said. Flug didn’t reply, only pulled down the bag to cover his mouth, so Black Hat went on. “You are Dr. Flug Slys of the League of Superpowered Citizens, are you not?” 

“I am Flug and I am Slys, yes.” Flug said tentatively. 

“You create their suits and weapons.” It was more a statement than a question, so Flug didn’t answer. “It just so happens that I am looking for a scientist.” Flug laughed again, just one, dry bark.

“You want me, to work for you? A, a, a  _ villain _ ?” He was skeptical. Black Hat held up his chin.

“Yes.” He replied, as serious as Flug was baffled. 

“You can’t be serious. They, they w-would hunt me down.” Flug used his free hand to press against the top of his head. “They would think I betrayed them! I, I know all of their weaknesses.” 

Now Black Hat laughed. It was an unnatural laugh that seemed to echo from multiple mouths, loud and mocking. Flug angled his body away from him.

“My little doctor, I already know all of their weaknesses. But that’s not why I want you. I can give you, inspiration. I can make things possible that you couldn’t even imagine. And,” Now Black Hat stepped closer to the doctor. “If you stay, I’m afraid your days are numbered.”

Black hat reached out a hand and laid it heavily on Flug’s shoulder. Flug staggered under the weight of it. 

“But I can protect you.” Darkness seeped from the edges of Black Hat’s coat and curled around their feet. It didn’t just cover the sidewalk beneath them, but seemed to erase it. Flug shifted uneasily under Black Hat’s hand as the darkness inched closer. 

“You’re not human, are you.” Flug’s voice was deadpan. Black Hat grinned again.

“Not even slightly.” He leaned in just as the darkness started to twist its way up his cane. “Now, do we have a deal?”

That deal was simple. Black Hat would free Flug from the heroes, but in return, would work for him.

And he, in his youth and naivete, believed that all humans were so resilient. That the previous mistreatment Flug had suffered would dim, and Black Hat would be the beginning and the end of Flug’s cowering.

But there were times when he bellowed, and Flug clutched his side.

It was easy enough, in the beginning, to keep Flug hidden. Black Hat only had a few clients, and had not yet wanted to advertise that his gear was being made by a former superhero lackey.  In the early days, they made many house calls. That was the time Flug seemed to be at his happiest, when he was in the pilot’s seat and flying them to whatever small country looking to start a coup.

There was no flair in those days. Just highly effective missiles and high powered mobile turrets. Money flowed in, and they were able to outfit the house in a way to complete their more ambitious objectives.

Finally, they started to get in the masked villains. The ones with henchmen and lairs. It was then that Black Hat bragged about kidnapping the mechanist for the League. By now, it only added to his prestige.

Then, the first “rescue” attempt happened.

It was a hero named Mammoth Cat managed to make it through the front door. Expecting a monologue, he paused long enough for Black Hat to skewer him with his tentacles.

The brawny man wearing some sort of pelt over his shoulders and with claws on his hands, bled and shrieked as he was pinned to the wall above the door. Black Hat had studied human anatomy for a long time, and knew where to inflict pain instead of bringing death. 

“And what do you want?” Black Hat asked as he moved closer, his coat slowly swallowing the length of the tentacles.

“You have, Flug.” Mammoth Cat gasped. Black Hat stood beneath the hero and snarled. It was more guttural, more animalistic than could come from a human throat.

“Yes, I do. He is mine.” Black Hat replied.

“The League. Wants him.” Blood now trickled from the Mammoth Cat’s mouth.

“Oh? For what exactly?” There was no answer forthcoming, so Black Hat pulled the tentacles from the wall. Still keeping the hero hooked, he lowered the man down. “You will tell your League that Flug is mine and is staying here. And the next one of you to enter my home or to attack my scientist, will die.” Removing the tentacles from one side of the man’s body, he used the rest to launch the Mammoth Cat through the busted doorway. He sailed over the descent of the hill and passed the fence, landing hard in the street. 

A breath, and Black Hat recalled the tentacles and snapped his fingers, rebuilding the entranceway. 

“Flug.” Black Hat sat at a table, months later, reading the paper. Flug was about to sit across from him, a bowl of something edible in his hands.

“Yes Boss?” Flug replied cautiously as he sat. He set the bowl softly down in front of him.

“You know that I am trying to comprehend the meaning of some of your human language.” Flug paused before taking off the bag.

“You are?” He was incredulous. That annoyed Black Hat.

“Yes.” He hissed. He nearly bit the tip of his tongue off when he tried to calm himself. “I want to understand the meaning of a word.” 

“What is it sir?” Flug asked as he brought a spoon up to his mouth.

“What is the meaning behind the word  _ faggot _ ?” The spoon fell free as if from nerveless hands, and clattered onto the table. Black Hat folded his newspaper closed, folded it again in half, and laid it on the table.

When he looked at Flug, he found the doctor’s face had drained.

“I take it you know this word.” Black Hat said. Flug blinked, shook his head, and picked up his spoon.

“It’s a derogatory word for men who, like men.” Flug muttered.

“Ah, yes, romance. I keep forgetting that your species makes mating complicated.” Black Hat leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and looked at Flug.

“So you like men?” Black Hat asked. Flug choked on his food and slammed the spoon down. When his throat cleared, he pushed roughly away from the table and stood.

“I am not answering that.” Flug muttered. Black Hat just looked at him.

“You don’t have to. I was just wondering if there was any truth to what your, former business partners were saying.” He said.

“That’s  _ my _ business.” Flug retorted. Black Hat stood swiftly and held out his hands as a gesture of peace.

“Fine, fine. I didn’t mean to disturb your breakfast. I will leave you alone.” Black Hat moved around the table and passed Flug to get to the doorway. Flug, against better judgement, reached out and grabbed Black Hat’s coat.

“Do you care? About any of that?” He asked. His voice came out thick and it was enough to make Black Hat pause.

“I care so very little about anything.” Black Hat answered, sounding bored. Flug released his grip on the coat.

“Then why are you here? Why stay in a place you hate?” 

“Because where I come from, there isn’t anything to even hate. I’d rather have this miserable existence than nothing.” Black Hat turned and removed his monocle, showing Flug his empty and devouring socket. “And I’m more monster than man, so why should I care?” 

In the darkness, cradling the thin body of his scientist, Black Hat stroked the other man’s hair.

“So what, then, is the term for a man who likes to lie with monsters?” He whispered. 

The doctor’s alarm started to bleat and the man groaned. As his arm stretched out to hit the button, a thick limb slammed down on it, shattering the clock to pieces. The black limb slithered back while the thin pale one hovered in the air.

“Boss?” Came the shaky question. Black Hat pressed his clawed fingertips into Flug’s chest and hip as he pulled him closer.

“Sleep well little doctor?” Black Hat whispered. Flug lowered his arm and Black Hat could feel his heart spasm in his chest. Caught between fear and desire, Flug’s muscles twitched as his body tried to decide what to do.

“Yes, I did.” Flug tried to turn, but stopped as Black Hat’s claws grazed the skin. “Was that you sir?” 

“I don’t deal with dreams Flug. Only desire.” He breathed in the warm scent of Flug’s skin. “Should we make another deal?” 

“That is terrifying sir.” Flug said and Black Hat chuckled. He released Flug and the man sat up, easing himself out of bed. He kept his back to Black Hat and tugged down his t-shirt. Black Hat slithered out of the bed and oozed around to face Flug.

“Not so terrifying I think.” Black Hat remarked as he eyed the man’s erection straining against the front of his shorts. Flug blushed and bent down to pick up his jeans from yesterday. As he pulled them on, Black Hat replaced his own clothes. Shirt, tie, vest, gloves, hat. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and turned back to Flug. T-shirt, jeans, lab coat, gloves, and paper bag. The man was sloppy. 

“I need to get started on my work.” Flug said. He walked past Black Hat, but was grasped at his upper arm. 

“I have a project for Slys.” Black Hat said. Flug sighed and he went limp in Black Hat’s grasp.

“Get me whatever notes you have on it and I’ll get started when I can.” Flug said, sounding defeated. Black Hat released the scientist like he was flicking water from his fingers. 

“Try to eat something beforehand my little doctor.” Black Hat stayed in Flug’s room as the other man walked out into the lab. 

He didn’t like being ignored. He didn’t like not being  _ obeyed _ . But to threaten, or debase the scientist wouldn’t be rooted in what Black Hat wanted. It would simply be another instance in a long line of abuses. 

So he had to use a gentler hand. 

With a small snarl, Black Hat went to the bed and tossed back the blanket. He straightened the flat sheet, smoothing his hands over the edges. Then he replaced the blanket, snapping it over the length of the bed and watched it slowly settle. The pillows were centered and Black Hat brushed away an errant thread. 

He curled one hand under his chin and the other went to his hip as he examined the bed. It was small, cramped, and not at all comfortable. But it served its purpose well enough.

Black Hat, who had no need of sleep, had a bed. A behemoth of a thing carved from dark wood that was older than any living thing should ever dare to reach. As per his standard colors, the sheets and blankets were all in some pattern of red and black. Everything was down. Completely uncomfortable to most humans, Black Hat liked when physical objects allowed for a more enveloping sensation. 

It’s why he liked being buried. Or in water.

The large clawed bathtub he kept was testament to that. 

Black Hat shook himself and sent a running tendril out into the lab. Flug was still out there, having  _ not _ gotten breakfast, and he felt annoyed. Black Hat dissipated enough to become a roiling cloud and pushed himself up toward the ceiling. He reached with thin arm-like strands through the cracks and squeezed through.

His bedroom was directly over Flug’s, as it was often the quietest when Demencia was in residence. Round hovering robots attended him, and Black Hat grabbed one roughly while setting his top hat over another. 

“Show me the lab.” Black Hat said and began to loosen the knot of his tie. The back of the robot he held had a screen, and it illuminated with a blue electric light as it turned on. The edges of the screen rippled but snapped into place with a view of the lab. Flug was hunched over the counter, his gloves discarded on the floor.

He did that when he needed to work with precise instruments. 

“Move over.” Black Hat said and tossed his tie at the hatted robot. The image on the screen shifted and he knew that the camera in the lab had skittered to a new angle.

Flug wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting; he held a thin screwdriver in his hand as he worked on a joint of a flat tripod base. It was his timeout ball, a commission. 

Black Hat focused on the man’s thin fingers. Flug held the screwdriver the same way he held a scalpel, somehow lightly but forcefully at the same time. They were precise fingers. They could find a pulse quickly and apply just enough pressure. They could squeeze into the cricoid cartilage, which was Black Hat’s preferred form of strangulation.

Suddenly, the screen went blue and Black Hat flexed his fingers to restrain himself from crushing the robot in his hand. 5.0.5 was always close to his creator.

Black Hat should’ve unloaded the thing when it was small and not so obviously,  _ good _ .

But Flug liked him so it stayed.

As long as his mad scientist was happy. 

Black Hat tossed away the robot and focused more on disrobing. He had an appointment with some third string villain in a few hours and he wanted to indulge in some sensory overload. 

What was the point of having a physical body if he didn’t push every boundary it had?

Ultimately, he ended up in the bath. Demencia had given him a bag of bath bombs after they turned out to not be what she expected, and he found them interesting. He didn’t have the olfactory system that humans had, preferring to pick up tastes and smells from his skin. It helped with the bath, because the essential oils released from the fizzing balls became a mix of tactile, scent, and taste stimulation. 

It was during times like this where he wondered where the line between hedonism and evil really was. The local satanist church was just a population of hedonists that were too afraid of the feminine to call themselves pagans. 

Black Hat dismissed the thought as he always did, not really caring. His reputation was solid and he wasn’t bothered about his personal habits.

It only got annoying when they were interrupted.

“HOLY SHIT BOSS.” The door to his bathroom was kicked open and Demencia barreled in. 

This is why he still kept the bowler hat on.

“What is it Demencia.” Black Hat seethed and leaned back against the edge of the tub. Demencia grinned and leaned on the wet floor beside him.

“I found someone to poke around the League. But he wants something.” She said and draped her arm over the edge of the tub, submerging most of her forearm in the water. Laying her head on her upper arm, she trailed her fingers over the stray tentacle that crossed her path. Black Hat frowned but otherwise ignored it.

“Of course, they always do. Who is it?” Black Hat asked. Demencia rolled her head back and she stared up at the ceiling.

“The Troubadour.” Her head fell sideways and she looked at him, her eyes wide. She always looked half-crazed, until she actually went crazy.

“What does he want?” Black Hat pressed.

“Protection. And a year’s worth of free commissions.” Demencia said.  Black Hat hissed in annoyance and looked away. He didn’t want to lose money on this, and both of those requests would result in a significant net loss. 

“He’s a no rate villain. How does he even think he’s capable of getting the information I want?” Black Hat muttered, mostly to himself. His mind itched as Demencia continued to stroke one of the tentacles. Snapping, he turned to her and hissed again, a more mammalian kind with open jaws. 

Demencia grinned in return but removed her hand, instead clinging to the edge with both. 

“What do you think?” She asked. 

“Play with him a bit. Remind him that he’s not in any sort of position to make some demands. If he gives me any worthwhile information,  _ then _ I will protect him. And he can get first bid on any new inventions for eighteen months.  _ After _ I get what I want.” Black Hat said, stressing his point. Demencia yawned open mouthed and then nodded. 

“I’m gonna sleep for a bit and then head out.”  She replied and stood, pushing herself up quickly. 

“And the club Demencia?” Black Hat inquired. Demencia absently scratched at her head.

“Nothing yet. It’s a club. People go in. Some of them wear awful costumes.” She answered. Black Hat groaned.

“Thank you Demencia. I want you to head out as soon as possible.” He said.

“Yup. Right after I warm up.” She marched out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Black Hat groaned and sank more into the water, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He sometimes wondered if it was a mistake to get Flug to make her. 

The embryo had been  _ so  _ promising.

After his meeting, Black Hat walked into the lab and tossed down a stack of papers next to where Flug was working. Flug didn’t even bother to glance at it.

“The Slys project?” The scientist asked as he examined something under a microscope. Black Hat turned to lean against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“When you have the time. It’s more a curiosity than something I’m looking to market.” Black Hat answered. That caught Flug’s interest. Black Hat usually didn’t request projects that weren’t supposed to result in commercial distribution. Flug sat up on his stool and grabbed the papers. He had set aside the paper bag - it usually got in the way when he was using optical instruments - and Black Hat studied the man’s face as the man studied the work. 

Flug was moderately attractive, for a human. Black Hat was bored with most things, except for shoebills, but he recognized the aesthetic pleasure of Flug’s face. Even the slight crookedness to his nose only added to the overall character.

“This is just an android?” Flug remarked and glanced up. He saw Black Hat staring and he looked away quickly. Black Hat reached out and flipped his thumb over the edges of the stack of papers.

“I want to see how difficult it would be to integrate the electrical components on a living subject. No reanimating dead flesh or creating synthetic muscle.” Black Hat explained.

“That’s not ethical.” Flug muttered quickly.

“Now my little doctor, when did we start to care about ethics?” Black Hat said, moving his hand from the papers to under Flug’s chin. He gently urged the scientist to look at him, and he gave what he thought was his most sincere smile.

“How about a deal? You can pick the requirements for the subject, since we both know Slys won’t care.” Black Hat said. Flug glared up at him, his gaze oddly sharp.

“And what do you get out of this?” He shot back. Black Hat tightened his grip on Flug’s chin, and his smile became more predatory. 

“Only the joy of watching you work.” He answered. Flug took in a sharp breath and his pupils dilated. Pleasure rolled off Flug and Black Hat laughed when the scientist batted away his hand. “I did promise you possibilities you couldn’t imagine.” Black Hat continued. Flug clutched the edge of the counter and hunched over, his face turned away. 

“Have you infected me with this?” Flug asked. Black Hat chuckled and slid around to Flug’s back.

“This was in you from the beginning my little doctor. I’m just letting it out.” Tendrils, less heavy than the tentacles, reached out and wrapped around Flug’s body. They kept his hands on the counter and held his head in place. Black Hat approached and put his hands on Flug’s shoulders.

“Aren’t you happy?” Black Hat asked. The tendrils turned Flug’s face as far as it would go and Black Hat reveled in the weak look in Flug’s eye.

“Yes Boss.” He said. Black Hat dipped his head in and lightly caressed the man’s lips with his own. When Flug opened his mouth, Black Hat leaned in and caught the scientist’s lower lip between his teeth. Even biting down gently, the tips of his fangs punctured the softer flesh almost immediately. Blood flowed over Black Hat’s tongue and he deepened the kiss. Flug struggled under his bonds but Black Hat held him fast.

Black Hat swallowed the blood and broke away with a smile. Flug was gasping. Releasing the tendrils, Black Hat ran them down the length of the other man’s body before reabsorbing them. Flug was still bleeding, so Black Hat pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to him. Flug took it and pressed it to his mouth.

“Can you give me a name Flug?” Black Hat asked softly. Flug held his stare for a moment and then turned away, shaking his head.

Black Hat roared and flipped a table over as he left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just so you know, updates are gonna slow up considerably. I need to finish my Zutara fic, I'm posting on my Tumblr for PaperHat month, and planning for NaNoWriMo. I'm sorry to leave you on a hook but I swear I will update when I can!
> 
> Like, seriously. If I don't write PaperHat I may die.


	3. Answer

“Hello Villains.” Black Hat curled each finger individually over the head of his cane. The Cambot skittered forward, the aperaturedialting like an unnatural eye. Black Hat bared his teeth in a way that was part grin, part sly smile. “Today I have something for you that I know will want.” Black hat reached out and casually yanked Dr. Flug into the camera’s view. Flug clutched a bottle of some green liquid to his chest. 

“One of the biggest problems plaguing any villain who has defeated their nemesis is the Rebound Effect. You can break a hero’s back and soon they’ll be escaping your pit prison and manage to defeat you. And even when you manage to kill them, you’ll soon find that they weren’t actually dead or that their teammates petitioned some cosmic entity to resurrect them.” Black Hat said and then roughly pushed Flug forward. 

“Explain the serum Flug.” Back Hat added. Flug weakly cleared his throat and then held up the bottle. 

“This is the Recurrence Virus. Apply a light mist to any organic component and it will immediately attack it at the molecular level. This means that not only will the hero die, but if the body is reanimated, the virus will simply kill it all over again. To demonstrate.” Flug broke off his sentence abruptly and started to walk off to the side. The cambot followed, keeping its unblinking eyes trained on the doctor.

On a table, Flug had set up a planting trench that held four identical plants. He held up a spray bottle and cleared his throat again.

“So here I have four cloned plants, genetically identical to each other. If I spray the first plant.” Flug misted the plant at one end and it immediately began to turn gray and wither. Where the spray had hit was where it would first start to decay, but soon the blight was travelling down the stem. It disappeared once it hit the base and the plant fell over. “Now you’ll see as the virus enters the connected root network and recognizes the identical plant.” 

Sure enough, the gray blight was suddenly moving up the other three plants. Within mere seconds, all four plants were gray and dead.

“Thank you doctor.” Black Hat said and the cambot swiveled around to refocus. “Obviously this will not affect the same hero brought in from an alternate dimension.” As Black Hat went through the terms and conditions, Flug crouched down next to the table and rested his chin on his hands on the table. 

He wasn’t happy with the decay rate of the virus itself. It could enter a dormant state that would allow a reasonable amount of time to pass between death and rebirth. But if a certain amount of time passed, the virus would die off and a hero could safely be resurrected. Still, it would give villains a greater buffer after killing their foe. 

Flug reached out and prodded one of the dead plants. By merit of its cellulose, the plant didn’t flop over, but it was assuredly dead. Now would come the experiments of putting a new plant into the same soil after the others had been removed. It would that make more sense to coat an object with the stuff, thus taking care of alternate dimension heros.

“Flug.” Flug looked up and saw Black Hat eyeing him. He rose and held his hands together in fron of him.

“Yes Boss?” Flug asked.

“I have a consultation arriving soon. Did you finish your report?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Go and get it. I’ll be in my office.” Black Hat let Flug walk off before him and watched him head to the stairs. “And get that creature of yours to make some tea.” 

Being in the human world made certain things difficult and Black Hat recognized that he may be hindering his own development by staying. He knew he was still a juvenile, hadn’t yet matured into his proper form, and none of them had been tempered in the mortal realm like this.

Getting older at the center of everything would have amounted to a bleeding away of his desires till he only wanted to consume, till his physical body had manifested as the sucking maw it was supposed to be.

Humans needed to feed, albeit to a much less severe degree than his kind. They could survive on a core grouping of nutrients and yet they created new food that offered no nutritional value all because it tasted good. That, to Black Hat, was the difference between desire and consuming, and he wasn’t entirely sold on the latter. 

He wondered, briefly, if any of the Old Great Gods had noticed he was gone.

There were plenty of the Elders still trapped here on this planet, so even if they had, they may number him among the few slumbering in the oceans or under a mountain. 

“Brawr?” Black Hat’s face pulled down in disdain as the door opened and a blue hulking mass lumbered in. It was disgraceful to have such a failure residing in his home, but the blasted thing was indestructible and Flug had a strong connection to it.

“Set it down and get out.” Black Hat said brusquely and, for once, it didn’t try to do anything ridiculous. The bear placed the tea tray on the edge of the desk and then backed out. Black Hat poured the tea from the pot into the thin porcelain cup. It was a blend with a simple black tea base but also contained dried oleander. When steeped long enough, it was bitter enough for his tastes.

Flug stepped in the room moments after 5.0.5. holding a thin folder.

“Is that everything?” Black Hat asked curiously as Flug handed it over and sat down at the other side of the desk.

“It is. Once you strip away his main MO, he’s got nothing.” Flug replied.

“Who is this guy?”

“Scientist. Metal face. Has a hang-up about an ex-girlfriend that might not actually be an ex-girlfriend.” 

“Is the ex-girlfriend his raison d'être?”

“That or the accident that caused the metal face. Could be both.” Black Hat flipped through the few pages in the folder. 

“Well this should be entertaining.” Black Hat muttered and put down the folder, lifting his rapidly cooling teacup. “By the way, we’ve already gotten three orders for your serum.” He resisted the urge to throw back the contents down his throat and instead took a long sip.

“Boss?” 

“You did a good job Flug.” The doctor sat back in his chair and stayed silent. Black Hat examined his scientist and was amused. 

“Thank you Boss.” Flug stammered and Black Hat poured more tea into his cup. He took a drink and Flug fidgeted in his chair. “I’ll just go then.” He started to rise, but Black Hat just glanced over at him. Flug sat back down as Black Hat resettled his cup on the desk. 

“Do you know a woman named Janice Greenesworth?” Black Hat inquired. He saw the imperceptible movement of the doctor’s fingers clenching inward. 

“I, don’t know what you mean sir.” Flug replied. Black Hat nodded and pushed himself up his seat behind the desk. He walked around and sat on the desktop, near enough to Flug.

“Let’s try this again.” He said and gestured for Flug to move closer. Obligingly, Flug leaned forward and Black Hat snatched him by the collar of his t-shirt. From within his coat, a tentacle snaked out and curved behind Flug’s head. There was the sound of fabric splitting and the band holding the goggles fell to the sides. The goggles themselves were still attached to the bag and the weight of them made the paper pull forward. The tentacle then ran a line from crown to nape and the bag fell into Flug’s lap.

Black Hat released the scientist, who slammed back into his seat.

“Who is Janice Greenesworth?” Black Hat asked. Flug’s eyes darted to the side, and it seemed like the right one moved faster than the other. But that was just due to the stark difference between the pair, one ice blue and the other warm brown. 

“She’s no one.” Flug answered quietly. Black Hat leisurely leaned back on the desk and snatched up his tea cup. Oleander was not as good when it cooled. 

“Well she’s been looking for you.” He said and took a drink. Flug’s mismatched eyes snapped back and he looked panicked.

“She’s no one, really. Don’t hurt her.” He pleaded. Black Hat almost looked surprised as he set the cup down.

“Why would I hurt her? She hasn’t actually attempted to barge in here so she’s only a minimal bother.” He said. Flug seemed to relax. 

“She’s a friend, from when I first got to Hatville.” He said.

“So she isn’t a hero.”

“No.” 

“You should invite her over.” The fear came back.

“Boss?” Black Hat drank the rest of his tea and stood up.

“You have been on edge recently. Invite her over.” He said and held out his hand. Flug clutched the remnants of his bag with one hand, and took Black Hat’s with the other. When he stood, Black Hat didn’t let go. 

“You are a mutt aren’t you Flug?” Black Hat asked as he looked at each eye in turn. Flug tried to shrink away. Back Hat pulled back on the arm he still held, making Flug step closer. One gloved hand went under the doctor’s tanned chin. The human really wasn’t one thing or the other and every bit of him clashed, from his complexion to his eyes, to the curls of reddish brown hair that fell unevenly about his head. Most biracial humans blended out in their color scheme, but Flug was like a patchwork monster.

“Are you going to invite her my little scientist?” Black Hat asked. Flug nodded vigorously.

“Yes Boss.” He murmured, the tightening of his throat causing the words to come out strained. Black Hat put his face next to Flug’s ear and breathed in the scent of the human. Chemicals, sweat, and soap. Black Hat grinned. 

“Do so.” Black Hat suddenly released Flug, who staggered back, tripping over the chair. Black Hat walked back around the desk, taking his cup with him, as Flug scrambled to the door. “Send up our guest when he arrives.” 

During his meeting, Black Hat kept his monitor on with the camera feed focused on the lab. Flug was pacing back and forth, occasionally stopping to look at a tablet. Listening with half and ear, Black Hat let his mind wander. Flug was a tightly wound ball of desires, both simple and complex. He could feel that Flug wanted Janice, but in a manner that confused Black Hat. 

Cultivating relationships in general was confusing to Black Hat. It was the main reason why he enjoyed consuming things that were either inorganic or not sentient. Dealing with humans when he first arrived in the mortal realm was, messy. They broke so easily. 

Then there came the question of how to consume them. Humans had eaten the dodo bird to extinction and Black Hat recognized the jurisprudence of restraining himself for the sake of resources. Humans had two versions of flesh consumption: sex and cannibalism. Both of those resulted in a mess and a dead body, so Black Hat pulled away from that.

He consumed, then, what humans had produced. 

Music, art, and literature of course, but also commodities. 

The next thing he began to consume is their desire. Being able to change his shape at will, he was able to manipulate the wants of many around him. Chemicals and electric bursts over synapses gave off a mist that no other creature on earth could sense. It was probably the reason why there were so many of his kind drawn to this planet and these people.

The draw went both ways, which was a surprise.

Black Hat was introduced to the summoning books and had found them amusing. The authors had gotten some of the names right, but they knew almost nothing of the liminal space in which they actually resided.

He remembered tracing the printed letters of his name with near reverence. 

Working now as he did - consulting and in research and development - Black Hat was able to harvest both currency, making it easier to take the commodities he wanted, as well as the soup that humans exuded when they got what they thought they wanted.

The beauty of which was, humans never knew what they truly wanted, and Black Hat often cycled through the same group of customers.

Once he settled into this life, he knew that feeding more would cause him to grow, and it wasn’t something he wanted at the moment. So he kept his household small and his client list just as closely cultivated. 

The problem is, when he tried to do something that wouldn’t result in a gain for himself, he didn’t know how to act.

“So you’re saying I should give up on the woman?” The client asked. Black Hat lazily turned back and steepled his fingers together.

“I’m saying that constantly losing to her husband is not winning you any battles.” Black Hat replied and the man with the metal face nodded. “I’ll give you the same handout I give most of our clients and I’ll have my assistant send you a more detailed packet once I’ve gone over your information.” Both men stood and shook hands, Black Hat making sure to exert more force. The other man left and Black Hat looked down at the monitor.

How many paper bags did that man have?

For the rest of the day, Black Hat kept to his rooms. Demencia was nowhere to be found on the compound and he hoped that meant she was actually doing what he asked. The number of times that creature got bored and distracted was the reason why her success rate hovered around 8%. 

“Failures, all of them.” Black Hat muttered as he sat at his piano. He had found a modern musician, meaning a nobody, and enjoyed some of the pieces. It was something that irritated him slightly; that which is made to consume does not create.

Still, Black Hat rested his fingers on the keys. 

The piece started simply enough, but it quickly called for a lot of energy and speed. It was challenging for an amateur, and sometimes Black Hat found himself focused on the act of playing than actually playing. 

This time, he was actually making his way through the piece when he was interrupted by a knocking at his door. Slamming his hands on the keys, Black Hat rose swearing. He walked quickly to the door, trailing smoke and tentacles, ripping it nearly from the frame as he opened it.

Flug.

Without the bag.

“Doctor?” Black Hat asked gently, the smoke pressing the frame back into shape and sealing it. 

“Demencia hasn’t been home.” Flug said and ran a bare hand through his hair. Black Hat nearly quivered at the sight of all the exposed flesh. Lust was usually whetted against the stone of suppression.

“She often isn’t.” Black Hat replied as he recalled the pieces of himself, standing straighter.

“Is she out on business?” 

“Of course.” Flug looked down at the floor so Black Hat continued. “I send her out a lot on my business. So why are you here?” Flug winced before looking up.

“I’m just nervous about inviting Janice here.” He said. Black Hat nodded and turned back into his room with a sigh.

“I can assure you that she will not be harmed here.” He said. He heard Flug step quickly in after him.

“It’s not that sir, only, she doesn’t really know about, all of this.” Flug replied. Black Hat turned, now looking confused.

“She knows you’re a villain Flug. It’s how she knew to reach out to me.” Black Hat snapped his fingers and a floating robot arrived at his shoulder. Flug winced again and clutched the hair at the back of his head.

“I meant, she doesn’t know about Slys.” Flug clarified. Black Hat mulled over the statement as he removed his jacket and handed it to the robot. He also dispatched with the top hat, readjusting the bowler.

“You’re a chimera correct?” Black Hat asked instead and Flug slumped over, his hands falling to his sides.

“Yes Boss.” 

"You have dual blood types and your coloring is enough for two of you.” Black Hat went on as if Flug hadn’t spoken. 

Flug muttered something under his breath. 

“I have no intention of being around when you’re entertaining if that’s what you’re worried about.” Black Hat finished. Flug blinked and looked over at him. 

“Why not?” The scientist questioned. Black Hat unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt and began to roll them up. 

“I tend to be unsettling to humans doctor.” He remarked.

“Boss, you’re the most interesting thing about this place. You think I want to introduce her to Demencia?” Black Hat smiled wryly.

“Well I hardly intend on discussing my work with a normal human. She has information I want.” 

“What kind of information?”

“Well, the kind about you my little scientist.” The door to the room suddenly slammed shut and Flug jumped. 

“She doesn’t know about the League.” Flug said in a rush. Black Hat walked calmly back to him.

“I know your desires Flug, and not all of them involve revenge. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but you have dreams of pain that have nothing to do with either fear or vengeance.” Black Hat stopped within arms reach of Flug but his shadow crept out around them both. 

Humans were tactile. From infancy they craved the touch of another being. When deprived of it, well, suppression was a potent whetstone. 

Black Hat silently removed his gloves and let them fall to the floor. He put a hand on either side of Flug’s face and looked down into the mismatched gaze.

_ Failures _ .

The lizard woman, the abomination, and the chimera with only one head. He had collected a sideshow of rejects. They were weights at his ankles, dragging his reputation into the mire. 

He wanted them.

Black Hat lifted Flug’s face and kissed him deeply. It was a human kiss, though Flug gasped in the embrace. Arms wrapped around Black Hat’s neck and he felt his other limbs uncoil. Many jointed legs, slithering limbs, and blinking tentacles all radiated out from his torso. 

He could smell the same scent as earlier. Chemicals, sweat, and soap. He could taste it through his skin; ammonium chloride, phosphoric acid, and rosin. Black Hat pulled Flug closer as he moved his mouth to the man’s neck. Flug whimpered lightly as Black Hat ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of his chin.

A hand went into Flug’s hair and Black Hat tangled his fingers in the thick strands. Not wanting to be seen in public, Flug had always hacked away at his hair in his lab. The uneven locks twisted in Black Hat’s grip and he pulled them away from the doctor’s face. 

“You never answer my questions Flug.” Black Hat said. Like a trapped animal, Flug’s gaze flicked wildly from the monocle to Black Hat’s one pure black iris.

“Please don’t.” Flug whimpered and Black Hat grinned.

“You don’t want me to ruin this?” He asked and Flug looked pained. Black Hat merely lowered his head and lightly bit into Flug’s shoulder, feeling his teeth pierce the fabric of his shirt. “Too bad.” He spoke with his lips pressed against Flug and tightened his grip on the man. Flug gasped, but just clutched at Black Hat’s back as his head was slowly pulled back by his hair.

“What is your name?”

“A-antonio F-flugsssslys.”  _ That was something to note _ , Black Hat thought as he released his grip a little and Flug sagged against him.

“And who do you belong to?” Black Hat asked. Flug lowered his face so his forehead rested against Black Hat’s chest. 

“You Boss.” He sighed. Black Hat let go of Flug’s hair but kept his arm around him.

“What if I ended our contract Flug?” Flug’s head snapped back up.

“Boss?”

“Would you stay here?” 

“I, I don’t…”

“This isn’t Beauty and the Beast. There would be no reward for staying.”

“Boss.”

“Tell me your desires my little scientist.” Black Hat pushed Flug down. Flug’s wide eyes and gaping mouth almost made Black Hat laugh. He watched as Flug fell into the shadow on the floor and Black Hat followed in after him. 

Here, inside of himself, they left the mortal realm. Hands and claws and teeth ripped away at Flug’s body, yet the man still reached out, falling wordlessly into the dark abyss. 

Tentacles like ropes caught him and, with no orienting horizon, Flug couldn’t tell if he was being lifted or Black Hat was lowering. 

“Where are we?” Flug asked.

“You said you were nervous about your other half well,” Black Hat rolled them so that as they fell, as now Flug knew they were still falling, they could see the dark illumination of a slavering maw.

A circular cone of teeth sat in a lipless mouth. Tentacles and spider legs swirled around the mouth, grasping at nothing to feed itself. Eyes blinked and flickered in the darkness, and Flug realized that the limbs were here. Like shadow and smoke, they were falling through the monstrous body. 

“What is that?” Flug asked, bewildered.  Black Hat smiled stretched out his hand, letting a tentacle slither over it. 

“Me. This is my proper form. Don’t you like it?” Black Hat asked. He did not have the human fear of rejection, and was honestly interested in the doctor’s response. 

Flug, still gaping, ticked his eyes over points of the maw. Light flashed in his eyes and Black Hat almost laughed.

“It’s amazing.” Flug said in a breathy voice and faced Black Hat. “You’re the embodiment of hunger.”

“And aren’t you the tasty morsel?”

They plunged into suffocating darkness, laughter trailing down after them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still officially on hiatus, but I missed you guys. <3


	4. Visiting

Even a little exposure to their kind could cause humans to go insane, so Black Hat wrapped Flug in a mental net and carefully excised pieces from his memory. There was no need for the good doctor to obsess of an ever devouring maw, because ultimately it would consume him and spark a change in Black Hat’s development.

For good measure, Black Hat also cut out the part leading up to their descent into Black Hat’s being.

After depositing Flug, lulled into sleep, down in his bed, Black Hat returned to his office and examined the pieces he cut out. As they came from Flug’s mind, they took on a different perspective and focus, and Black Hat was amused to see how much concern Flug attached to Black Hat’s mouth. Or mouths in this instance.

The mouths took on the look of black holes, where light was thinned to a line of frozen time. A black hole will consume in an impassioned manner, taking in all that gets close enough. All that it cares about is mass and rotation. It can never be filled. It is always consuming.

And in much the same way a human will stand at a precipice and suddenly be overcome with the thought of jumping, so too did Flug have the unnatural urge to fall over the horizon into the swirling open hole of nothing. 

Black Hat did consume these memories and felt the mouth grow, the hunger sharpening slightly. He could not do that too much or too often, lest he mature out of his current state and turn into one of those idiotic creatures he had left behind in the other plane. 

The rest of the week passed quietly, as Flug made no mention of his human female companion and Demencia had yet to bring in any updates other than to say that the Troubadour had backed away from the deal. That was something that Black Hat had expected, but frustrated him nonetheless. 

On a weekend when Flug and Demencia were out - Flug often took her along when he needed to physically subdue something - Black Hat wandered about the villa. In Flug’s room, Black Hat found a few pages of a script, most of the lines angrily scratched out. It looked like the scientist was trying to prepare what to say to his human female companion and had so far come up with nothing. 

Black Hat left the papers and walked into the lab.

Perhaps it was time to make a call of his own.

~

“Where is Flug?” The figure in white asked as a robot came and took her coat. Black Hat’s face twitched.

“He is out with Demencia.” Black Hat answered and then gestured for the figure to step further into the villa.

“ _ Los extraño _ .” She said wistfully. Now Black Hat scowled and turned toward the staircase. Due to her physical state, Lady Ace was mute and required the electronic band around her throat to speak. She could speak any dialect of any language but she insisted in speaking her native tongue in ways that irritated Black Hat.

Reminding him that she shared many similar traits with Flug.

“So why am I here?” Lady Ace asked lightly as they both began to climb the stairs. 

“We’ll talk in my office.” He said, keeping his back to her. She stayed silent and he could only hear the soft step of her feet on each stair, and her gloved hand gliding up the railing.

Once in the office, Lady Ace took a seat at the desk and unhooked her mask. As far as Black Hat knew, Lady Ace only ever removed her faceplate and gloves in his villa, as no other villain had ever seen any part of her. 

“I would offer you tea but Flug isn’t here.” Black Hat remarked as he sat in his massive chair across from her. Ace held up a hand in dismissal and set her mask on the desk. 

“Straight to business then.” She said. While she didn’t move her mouth when she spoke, a thick scar made one corner of her lip curl upward and she seemed to be constantly sneering. It was a small thing to notice however, as her face was covered in scars and her eyes were cloudy. 

“What do you know about the League?” Black Hat asked. Ace sat back in the chair and brought a leg up to rest her ankle on her other thigh.

“The heroes? As much as any villain I would think.” She replied.

“Do you have any connections?”

“To the League?” She sounded incredulous, which could easily be feigned, and Black Hat stayed quiet. Her mouth worked  and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I do not.”

Black Hat turned his chair so he could face the monitor on his desk. He pressed a few things on the screen, read what popped up, and then tilted his head toward Lady Ace, though he didn’t look at her.

“Didn’t they try to recruit you as an antihero a few years back?” He asked and then eyed her. Now her lips parted as she sighed and for the briefest second he could see the ragged root of her tongue. It was one thing about her that fascinated him in a visceral way, the ripped out tongue.

“They did. They obviously failed.” She replied.

“Yes, that was also the year that you blew up the oil magnate's mansion correct? You didn’t have much of a body count back then.” Black Hat turned back toward her and clasped his hands together on top of his desk. 

“As a villain.” Lady Ace clarified and Black Hat grinned. Lady Ace sighed again and she leaned forward, both feet firm on the floor. “I have a few people who act as a sort of liaison between the League and myself.” 

“I would like to ask for a favor.” Black Hat started and Ace perked up.

“Can you afford a favor my dear?” She interjected quickly. 

“What do you want?” Black Hat growled out and Ace smiled, or made what passed for a smile on her face.

“Depends on the favor.” She replied. Black Hat paused, just staring at her, before he spoke again.

“I need to find out more about Flug’s time at the League. I need to know who had the most power over him, and who has been the most persistent since his departure.” He explained. Lady Ace either didn’t, or couldn’t, express any surprise if she had been. 

“If you’re talking about power, then you already know it’s Captain Astounding.” She said.

“I mean on a more personal level. I think Captain Ass did enough, but there was someone, or someones, closer to Flug. I need names.” 

“I didn’t think you were in the revenge business Black Hat.” 

“Things have been,” Black Hat paused, choosing his words. “Changing.” Ace’s eyes ticked over his face. 

“Why don’t you just kidnap one? They’re all gunning for you anyway.” She asked.

“Torture yields easy answers, not always correct ones.” 

“That will take time, for me to tease this out. Time I could be spending on my work.” She remarked.

“What do you want?” Black Hat repeated.

“I want your scientist.” Lady Ace said and Black Hat scowled. Her ruined eyes could see enough and she kept her smirk. “But I will settle for a free loan of Demencia at some future date.” 

“That’s a cheaper rate than what others would ask. And you using Demencia is free publicity for me.” He replied honestly. Not many got such honesty, but Lady Ace had lowballed him and he wanted to know why.

“Considering I would do this for free if Flug asked, I’m actually asking for quite a lot.” She explained and then stood. “I will also throw in a bit of free advice.” Lady Ace picked up the smooth, blank faceplate and tucked it under her arm. “Someone is looking for your true name and I don’t think you’ll want them to find it.” 

Black Hat rose, intrigued.

“Who?” He asked. 

The door to the office crashed open.

“Boss!” Demencia called out and they both turned to watch the other creature stomp in. When she saw Lady Ace, Demencia beamed.

“Acey!” She yelled and darted forward. Lady Ace laughed and held open her arms, catching Demencia as she barreled into her.

“How are you my lovely?” Ace asked and used the back of her fingers to stroke Demencia’s cheek.

“Bored.” Demencia groaned and Lady Ace tittered.

“Is Black Hat not working you properly?” She cooed and Black Hat growled. Lady Ace laughed again and let go of Demencia. 

“Ace? I didn’t know you would be here today.” Flug stepped into the office and Black Hat sighed loudly. Flug ignored him and walked up to the desk.

“ _ Cόmo estás mi amado? _ ” She said and kissed him on both cheeks. 

“ _ Bien, bien. _ ” Flug replied absently. They continued to converse in Spanish while Demencia threw herself into the chair Ace had left and tossed her feet onto the desk. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I have come to visit my dearest friend Black Hat.” She answered liltingly. The lenses in Flug’s goggles shifted and Ace turned coy.

“It’s business Flug.” Black Hat grumbled out, also in Spanish. Ace turned slowly to him and looked at him with open frankness.

“Oh? Did you decide to learn another human language? How clever of you.” She replied.

“The human tongue is not so difficult to master.” He quipped, and Ace smiled at the barb.

“No, you’re right. Even in my limited capacity, I did know more than one. Before.” She added and touched a hand to the band at her throat. 

“Do you have time to stop by the lab? I have some things I was going to ask for your thoughts on soon anyway.” Flug interrupted and Lady Ace faced him again.

“Of course my little bunny.” She handed him her faceplate and began to take off her gloves. “Is 5.0.5. around?” 

Without waiting for a dismissal, Flug and Lady Ace walked out of the office, their voices still chittering on in Spanish. 

“What I would not do to or for that woman.” Demencia said as the pair left and Black Hat felt his fingers dig into the surface of the petrified wood that made the desk. 

“She’s a waste of talent with her acts of terrorism.” Black Hat affirmed and went back to his seat behind the desk. 

“And yet the whole world trembles at the thought of you two joining forces.” Demencia said in a rare moment of clarity. 

“Our visions do not align.” Black Hat said.

“Then why was she here?”

“She has agreed to do some information gathering for me.”

“So I don’t need to look for a molerat?” Demencia asked, aptly mixing two epithets. 

“No, Demencia. You can stop with that.” Black Hat replied.

“What about the club?” She pressed.

“Were you even trying with these tasks?” 

“Nope.” Another growl slipped out of Black Hat’s throat and Demencia grinned. 

Black Hat dismissed her and went back to the monitor. He changed it to show the feed from Flug’s lab and watched as Flug and Lady Ace talked. She was sitting in one of the stools at his work counter, one hand absently stroking 5.0.5.’s fur. While Flug kept on the bag, he had removed his gloves and was moving his hands as he spoke animatedly. 

The patchwork pair, both mad scientists, both from countries far to the south. 

Black Hat recalled Flug’s splotched skin under his hands, and briefly wondered if the outlines of those shapes were expressed as scars on Ace’s skin. She had only shown so much skin, baring only her arms and the top part of her chest when she removed her lab coat, but all of it was covered with the same chaotic scarring that marred her face. 

She, unlike Flug, had not been born that way.

When Black Hat first learned of her deformity, he had been surprised that he had not tasted  vain desire about her. She covered herself completely, but it seemed to be in an attempt to make herself more neutral than about shame. 

In fact, the only desire she ever overtly expressed was for Flug, though Black Hat could taste the subtle undercurrents of aspiration and not lust. The desire that was buried in Lady Ace’s mind was more steeped in anger and had more to do with her time before turning to villainy, which did not interest Black Hat in the slightest. 

Ace was good intentions turned evil, while Flug had been twisted from the get-go and only pretended at heroics.

They were matched even in their opposites.

Black Hat had never been particularly concerned, as he was more annoyed at Ace’s halfhearted attempts to poach his scientist. And Flug always treated her courteously in those attempts, and they were friends of a fashion. But recently she had begun to rub him the wrong way and it irritated him.

And now she teased him with some unknown threat.

His true name was out there, he had seen it many times. He hadn’t bothered how it had been found out, as he knew that he and his fellows seeped into the minds of humans often. Through the same cracks he had used to escape, a few enterprising individuals had peered. 

He was confident that nothing would come of it, as there was very little a mortal could do with his true name.

Very little, but still, it was more than nothing.

Scowling, Black Hat shut off the monitor and stood, going to the framed pictures he had hanging on his wall.

Coming to the physical realm had required certain concessions to be made. Weaknesses were introduced. 

But he would not have a human exploit those weaknesses.

~

As evening fell, Black Hat entered the kitchen and saw Lady Ace still there. Whatever crossed his face, Lady Ace merely shrugged and put a scarred hand on Flug’s shoulder as she set down a large mug in front of him. She added a straw and Flug turned his face up to look at her.

She smiled genuinely and Black Hat frowned.

“Just making sure your little scientist is eating.” Ace said and went back to the counter where bowls of soup sat. Demencia wandered in and Ace handed her one before taking her own to the table.

“I thought you had business to attend to.” Black Hat retorted and she ignored him, instead blowing on a spoonful of soup. 

“She’s been helping me with work for a client.” Flug offered, not necessarily coming to her defense. 

Black Hat bit back his reply and just sat down next to Flug. If he couldn’t handle Lady Ace, he wouldn’t be able to meet this Janice woman from Flug’s past. Ace had abandoned her lab coat, and wore a sleeveless turtleneck, white of course, and her scars twisted over her muscles as she moved to eat. 

“How does it taste?” Black Hat asked. Flug froze and Demencia snorted. Lady Ace, spoon partway to her mouth, smiled flicked her eyes over to him. 

“I wouldn’t know.” She said and sipped from the spoon. Replacing it back into the bowl, she stirred the soup lazily. “It makes cooking quite difficult.” 

“Aw mom and dad, don’t fight.” Demencia whined mockingly and then giggled to herself. She had crouched on the seat so her body curled over the table as she ate. Yet Demencia held the spoon delicately, making  it more jarring when she gnawed on the spoon.

“But isn’t it nice to sit down as a family?” Ace remarked.

“Considering the current taste of desires seated at this table,” Black Hat said blandly. “I would recommend you find a better metaphor.” Lady Ace paused, then broke into raucous laughter. 

After the food had been consumed, Black Hat hovered ominously as Ace gathered her things and moved to the front door. She kissed Flug’s cheeks, or what would have been his cheeks, and bade him farewell in Spanish. He murmured something in response and she finally departed. 

“So what did she do to make you so pissed off?” Flug asked as he walked back to his lab. Black Hat followed him, the edges of him thinning and dissipating into shadow. His familiarity grated on Black Hat but he let it go. Occasionally, Flug reminded him that he did have a backbone. 

“Her flirtation is getting old.” Black Hat answered. 

“Well, she’s the only one who understands so I’d appreciate it if we could keep her around.” Flug said and unhooked his goggles. Black Hat watched as Flug held the goggles in one hand and quickly took off the bag with the other. Setting the bag down, Flug replaced the goggles on his face and sat down on a stool.

“And what does she understand that I do not little scientist?” Black Hat asked. Flug, with his quilt scrap flesh and his wild hair, looked at him.

“The human condition for one.” He stated. Black Hat dipped his head sideways. 

“I wasn’t aware that was something you concerned yourself with.” Flug didn’t say anything, but looked at his hands.

“When Demencia was born, I thought I finally understood humanity. I had created it, altered it, and birthed it. I held an infant in my hands and knew exactly how it worked. When I aged her, I controlled every bit of information that went into her mind. I was in charge of her comfort, her nutrition, and her exercise.” Flug lowered his hands and turned from the counter to look out toward his lab. “And yet she is nothing like what I had intended she should be. I still don’t understand.” 

“Next time, put one in a box. Or bring one back from the dead and see what has changed.” Black Hat said and Flug faced him again, smiling softly. 

“But I also want to understand photons and invisibility. Things that aren’t so messy.” 

“And without ethical implications on your guilt.” 

“Well not all of us can be creatures motivated by greed.” Flug said flippantly.

“That’s not the only thing that motivates me.” Black Hat added. That triggered something in Flug’s mind and Black Hat watched with amusement as the man struggled over the gaps in his memory. 

“Get to work doctor. We have orders to fill.” Black Hat said and walked out of the lab. 

Flug’s conflicting desires were small and impotent, as priorities would sort them out. They were tasteless, yet Black Hat took them. He threaded them through teeth hidden in shadows, tasting the shape of such insubstantial wants.

It was, after all, what he did.


	5. Old Friends

**A few years ago…**

Flug flicked on the light as he stepped into the apartment. Closing the door with his foot, he tossed his keys onto the couch in the otherwise empty living room. Keeping his duffel bag on his shoulder, Flug walked past the kitchen and down the short hall to the bedroom. The apartment was used infrequently, as he did not often get to spend his nights away from the compound, but he had gotten comfortable.

So it wasn’t until he turned on the bedroom light that he realized someone else was there.

“Have a good time out freak?” A figure sat in the desk chair, facing the doorway. Flug’s eyes flicked over to the computer, his heart seizing, but it wasn’t on. Calmly, Flug dropped the bag to the floor.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking down at the bag and trying not to start shaking.

“Turns out the villain we were looking for was just Steve sleep portalling.” The man said, sounding bored. “We got home early and weren’t we surprised to find that our busy little lab rat was gone.”

“I’m allowed to have my own life.” Flug said, his voice coming out soft and low. He heard the man rise from the chair and he flinched.

“Not when it makes the League look bad.” The man retorted. He suddenly grabbed Flug’s arm, squeezing it. “And people are gonna know who you are with your fucked up eyes and face.” 

Flug winced as the man’s grip tightened on his arm. Having a superhero with superhuman strength and a hair trigger temper in an enclosed space was not a great scenario. 

“There is nothing wrong with what I do.” Flug said, sounding stronger than he really felt. The man pulled an incredulous face, his eyebrows raising in mock curiosity.

“Oh?” He said and then threw Flug at the wall. His back smashed into the surface and Flug’s breath was forced out of him in a gasp. He fell to the floor as the man grabbed his duffel bag. “Let’s just see how innocent your hobbies are faggot.” 

The man ripped open the bag, popping the zipper and the metal teeth, before upending it and shaking out the contents. Bundles of rope, binds, nitrile gloves, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol tumbled onto the carpet. A black case also fell and when it hit the floor, popped open, tossing out thin flechettes. The man, breathing hard, threw down the empty duffel bag. 

“Seriously?” He asked and bent down, picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol. “You think there’s nothing wrong with this?” He pitched the bottle at Flug’s head and it smashed next to his face, spraying rubbing alcohol everywhere. The smell and taste of it was so sharp, Flug felt like he had been cut. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The man spat. Flug said nothing, knew that there was nothing he could say. “I mean, isn’t it bad enough you’re unnatural just by how you look?” 

“Just because you don’t get it, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.” Flug muttered, in spite of himself. The man huffed a laugh through his nose.

“Yeah? I don’t get it?” He asked and picked up a bundle of rope. He shook it loose, and wrapped the ends around either hand, pulling it taut. “Let’s see if I can figure it out. Too bad for you, I’m a slow learner.”

Panicking, Flug scrambled on his hands and knees toward the door. The man just walked over and kicked him in the side, sending him sailing into the hallway.

“Where ya going Doc? We’ve got experiments to run.” 

And there was pain.

**Now…**

Black Hat watched from the shadows as the front door opened. Flug walked in, followed closely by a short, chubby woman. When she stepped into the lobby, her mouth fell open and her eyes widened.

“OMG Tony, this is  _ so _ aesthetic.” She gasped and Flug chuckled as he shut the door. 

“Yeah, Black Hat is a little ostentatious.” He replied. Black Hat bristled at the comment and slid along the ceiling till he loomed over the pair. The woman was examining the paintings on the wall and the pedestals holding a few choice artifacts Black Hat had curated. 

“Cripes, was he at the Hindenburg disaster?” She asked and Flug walked over to look at the painting in question.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen the photo this is based on.” He answered.

“Ew, how old is he?” 

“Old.”

“God you are so gross.” She said and elbowed him. Flug laughed and rubbed his side.

“It’s not like that Janice.” He said.

“Not like what?” Black Hat asked as he dripped from the ceiling. The pair jumped and turned, Janice holding her hands to her chest.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She stated, sounding as if she were trying to reprimand him. 

Humans fell too easily into comfort. 

“My apologies.” Black Hat replied smoothly, not sounding the least bit sorry. 

“Janice, my employer, Black Hat.” Flug said and Black Hat doffed his top hat as he bowed slightly.

“A pleasure.” He stood and replaced the hat, noting how Janice eyed it. They never understood the stacked hats.

“And Boss, this is my friend Janice.” Flug went on and Janice flashed a wide, toothy grin. 

“You don’t look half as scary as the heroes say you are.” She commented and Black Hat sneered.

“That is for your benefit.” He said and Flug coughed nervously. 

“I’m going to take Janice to the lab now.” He stated and tugged on Janice’s hand. Black Hat followed them, standing on Janice’s right. 

“So, how did you meet my little scientist?” He questioned and Janice beamed.

“We have mutual friends.” She said quickly. It was an obviously rehearsed response. 

“And how did you find out about his work here?” Black Hat pressed.

“Oh, uh, I met Oleandra and she told me how to get in touch.” Janice answered, not as easily. Black Hat looked at Flug, trying to place the name.

“Oleandra is Ace’s ex.” Flug clarified and Black Hat nodded. 

“I’m not exactly keen on having villains talking about the network, but at least this leak proved,” Black Hat paused as he thought. “Beneficial.” 

“Well don’t worry, I am very discreet.” Janice said and winked, comically cliched. 

“That does not concern me.” Black Hat replied, bored. “If you were to say anything, you would only have the opportunity to do so once.”

“HA HA HA THAT’S GREAT HERE’S THE LAB.” Flug said loudly and pulled Janice into the room. Black Hat stopped in the doorway, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“I am going to collect Demencia so that you two may catch up.” He said and Flug looked back at him. 

Black Hat briefly wondered, again, how close the two must really be if he was still wearing the bag.

“Thank you Boss.” Flug said and Black Hat nodded before turning and walking to Demencia’s rooms. 

“He is  _ so _ your type.” He heard Janice whisper and Black Hat smiled to himself. 

Black Hat went to Demencia’s rooms and informed her that she had been hired. He gave her the who and the what before sending her on her way. Even though he had been listing her services for some time, he was still selective when accepting contracts for Demencia as any activity she would be involved in would attract superhero attention. And while both he and Slys were disappointed with the ultimate product of the hybrid experiment, Black Hat and Flug did not want to see her come to any lasting harm.

Not that she cared.

“Thanks Jefe.” Demencia crooned and gave him a crushing hug. He thrust her away and she went, laughing, while he oozed up the wall. Pausing in the hallway, he considered his options. 

As much as he wanted to learn more about Flug’s relationship with Janice, Black Hat knew he had more important work to do. As he crawled across the walls and up to the next level, he mulled over Lady Ace’s warning. 

The universe was fabric. It dimpled in places where the weave had popped free, sagging but not yet torn. There were rips, tears, slits so thin they were only noticeable when something approached and they suddenly opened up. The edges of the fabric, the older parts of the universe, were frayed.

This caused a seeping.

A child was once asked what was outside of the ever expanding universe. The child responded, “Everything that hasn’t happened yet.”

Humans thought it meant destiny, the surety of time marching ever forward and, bringing with it, new horizons. Instead, it was a sheet snapped out and slowly falling over what was inevitable. The sleeping giants behind the universe, or swirling mindlessly at the center of it all, or buried under the weight of a planet’s oceans. 

The sheet would settle over them, and in their sleep, they would push it away. The fabric, tattered and roughly spun, would grate over skin that had never been touched. They would open and they would come through.

They were what had yet to happen. 

They were what the universe was expanding into.

Some of them had woken up on their own, much as he had. They slipped through a hole punched into space by a supernova. They slid sideways through slits unseen. 

Occasionally, some would be called. 

It started with mutual dreaming. The ones sleeping, or mentally wandering as they pandered to the idiot, would find that they were escaping the boundaries of themselves. This was the natural state of their being, as they gave off dreams the same way a star threw off radiation. They light the minds of men the way a sun shone down on a planet. 

Most of the time, it burned the life out of what it illuminated. But some minds existed in the perfect place and time, and were nourished by the darkness of the elder dreams. Some men, waking feverish and shaking, would put their dreams to paper. 

One woman was the first to name them. Among the shared memory, Black Hat could picture the dirty, barely civilized woman, clutching the twin thin bodies of her equally dirty sons. She had carved her way out from the side of her husband and had seen one of them in a waking dream. 

The human tongue was born with the first Elder’s name. 

Others came, as Black Hat himself was named by one of the younger minds, and soon a number of them were known. Not all, not even slightly close to all of them, but enough.

And the humans, with their inherent need to worship, they cultivated these names into icons. 

They learned to  _ call _ .

He was sure many of the calls were accidental. Say a name enough times, even over a lifetime, and that one would show up. Some required precise rituals, which could not be completed by the required singular human. Then there was the cupped hands, holding the names and rites of beings that could be called by humans. 

Humans were obsessed with these rituals. Half of them believed that the Elders were creatures to be bound for power. Half of them believed that calling the Elders only invited them to bring the inevitable end quicker. 

They were both right.

All of them could be called. Up to a certain maturity level, they could be bound. If bound correctly, they would be forced to perform for the caller, or bestow a certain portion of their power.

Binding an Elder usually did not end well for the caller. But neither did an Elder survive being bound.

Through binding, the Elder being was lashed to the physical and mortal realm. While in his current state, Black Hat knew he could be killed. But it would be impossible for a human to do so, just as it would be impossible for one to call Tszkexi’lmoncth’asitocre. That would require a singular human to carve out their own beating heart and hold it for the entirety of a total lunar eclipse on the fourth Tuesday of the second Adar while flawlessly pronouncing the Elder’s name three times. 

So, his mortality was on the same level as that. 

Unfortunately, lashing an Elder to the physical and mortal realm made them perfectly mortal. Any human with the correct blade could slit them apart.

It was difficult to bind even an infant Elder fresh from their slumber, or even from their court at the center of all things. It would not be so difficult to successfully bind a juvenile Elder that was already mortal. 

Black Hat pulled himself together in the seat at his desk. He pulled the monocle from his eye and spun it on the desk, listening to the opaque rattle as it moved. 

He had been lucky, as by the time his name was put to paper, most people did not believe in his kind. Oddly, it was the weaker ones, the ones with easier names like Ur, Mara, and Satan, they were still fondled like beads. Black Hat and his lot were relegated to heavy tomes with a heavily manufactured aesthetic, or simple games. 

If someone was looking specifically for his name, that meant there was already some background knowledge on the subject. The person knew about the calling, knew what it would mean to bind him. They had a reason to seek this thing out.

What he wanted to know is if this mystery enemy knew he was an Elder, or if they thought he was a mere “demon.” Expectations could usually be levered to his favor. 

Briefly, very briefly, Black Hat considered contacting one of the weaker Elders. The ones who were invoked at every church service held to dispel them. 

“Speak of the devil.” Black Hat murmured and snatched up his monocle, placing it back over the gaping eye socket. 

He wondered briefly about the one he was before. Existing outside of time, there had always been a him. At some point, he had been destroyed and birthed again. On this planet he had been named in the 21st century, so what other planet had called to him and broken his body. Where was his other corpse rotting away?

Growling, Black Hat sat back in the chair. 

Perhaps it was time that he visited an old friend as well.

**The first day…**

Air was horrible. Nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide rolled deliciously over ever part of the body that could taste, but it grated over every part that could feel. The body writhed and twitched as edges were defined. There was too much information the body was picking up to parse through. As a being of madness, it was an easy state to slide into. But then everything would be lost.

“I forgot how disgusting we all were.”

Eyes turned and found a human. The human was male, tall and broad, with a wide face. This maddening, writhing, hungry maw could shape itself into that.

He, know truly a he, formed a mirror of the human, which made the other man smile. 

“Hello Xin.” The human spoke the first part of the Elder’s name. His true name. Slipping his eye sideways, the Elder saw the thing behind the human.

“Xir.” It would be impolite to refer to any Elder by their true name. 

“So what brought you over?” Xir asked. Xin tugged down on the edges of his jacket and shrugged.

“I was awake.” He replied. Xir laughed.

“You’re lucky. I was called by an overeager monk.” He said.

“You didn’t go back?” Xin questioned and Xir laughed again.

“Back? This place was once ours till we fucked off to sleep.” Xin frowned, mulling over the words. Seeing his confusion, Xir’s face softened. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

“What are you doing?” Xin asked.

“Living! Spending some time here before this reality is shot to hell and my time on the throne starts.”

“How?”

“These humans need illusion to survive. They produce so much bullshit, I could go from infant to a Great Old One in a matter of eye blinks.” 

“Then why not?” Xir walked forward and put a hand to either of Xin’s shoulders. 

“Oh my child, I was already Old before I came here.” Xir answered and paused to examine Xin’s chosen form. “Your proportions are off and your skin is unnatural. But I like the top hat.” Xir clapped his hands against Xin’s shoulders before moving to the side. They stood shoulder to shoulder in silence for a moment.

“You’ll need a human name. Especially if you stay in this area. They’re underdeveloped tongues can’t handle the ‘x’ sound.” Xir said. Slowly, unknowingly, Xin put a hand to the rim of his top hat. 

“Black Hat.” He said. Xir paused and then turned his head to look down at his kin.

“That’s awful.” He said. Xin, now Black Hat, sneered.

“I don’t care.” He said and Xir backed away, holding his hands up in front of him.

“Fine.” He reached into his jacket and pulled something out. “But if you need any help actually blending in, find me.” Black Hat took what Xir now handed him. It was a small white card with “Dougal Procell” typed on it. 

“What will you do now Black Hat?” Xir, now Dougal, asked. Black Hat flicked the card with his thumbs.

“I’m hungry.” He said and then looked up. “I want things.”

“Then get them! Only, remember,” Dougal shifted, looking more like himself. “Stay out of my way.” Defensively, Black Hat’s spiderlike limbs protruded, making a sort of cage in front of him.

“Why’d you come?” Black Hat questioned. Dougal smoothed himself back into the form he had created.

“You made an awful clamor. Plus, I needed to see what was coming through. Not all of us have as much self control as you and I do.” He answered. Black Hat said nothing, still getting used to the sensation of physical speech. 

“Have fun child. I’ll be seeing you.” And the Prince of Dreams and Illusions disappeared, leaving Black Hat all alone.

He pocketed the small white card. He could taste a city nearby. 


	6. Names

Part of the darkness thickened in Flug’s lab. It dripped down the wall and the man barely looked up.

“Yes Boss?” He asked. He was still focused on the schematic he was working on, and new that these crawling tendrils didn’t need his focus anyway.

“I have a job for you.” Flug sighed and set down his pencil. “Time to go out.”

The Riven Man had the look of a dive bar, but due to its exclusive clientele, held some of the best booze in the state. Privacy booths were huddled in a back corner across from the bar, though they were rarely used. In the center were a pair of tattered pool tables, one with red felt and the other green. A new-ish stereo system blared out some mottled playlist and there was only the occasional soft clack from the pool balls. 

There was a haze that hung all around the interior, though a few overhead fans lazily spun some sort of current. Some of the younger crowd sat in pockets of wetter smoke, sucking on thin vapes. 

This was the bar for minions, henchmen, and rats. It was a place Flug had only ever had to visit in the beginning, when they were first establishing themselves in the city. He had been glad to leave it behind.

“Hey! It’s the paperboy!” Someone whistled through their teeth and Flug let out a heavy breath. He scanned the bar, marking all the vitals that he found. Once he had everyone placed, even the pair in the bathroom, he closed the door firmly behind him, pressing lightly on the thumb latch as he did.

“You want to die?” Someone else whispered sharply and a third somebody broke into dry, wild laughter.

“Where’s your boss Doc?” The bartender called out. 

“Where do you think?” Flug shot back, throwing his arms out to the side. People murmured and glanced uneasily about. Flug shook his head and walked to one of the few tables that were scattered about the bar. Placing the duffel bag on the tabletop, Flug leaned on the back of one chair. The wood at the top looked like it had frayed; large splinters jutted up from where it had been rubbed against by something heavy.

“We don’t want any trouble.” Someone started hesitantly. Flug could feel the unease and could hear the anxious shifting. It was only a matter of time before someone headed for the exit.

“Good. Because neither do I.” This was why Flug liked the bag. Why he never upgraded. It was so absurd, so easy to mock, but when it was placed over something threatening, something invisible, it ramped up people’s anxiety. Flug stood upright and held out his hands. “I just want some information.” 

As the others began to glance and whisper among themselves, Flug unzipped his bag. He pulled out one, small plastic tab with a panel switch on it. 

“What-” A voice was abruptly cut off and Flug heard the wince of someone being jabbed in the gut with an elbow.

“Excellent question!” Flug turned on his best showman’s voice and walked around the table, turning slightly as he spoke. “See, I had wanted to make something that could expose a lie. But the mind is a tricky thing.”

Everyone was watching him and Flug looked around, trying to find the best mark. One of them was the weak link, and he just had to find it. 

“I could ask you a really simple question like, is the sky blue? Pretty basic right?” No one answered and a few people started to edge toward the door. 

“But if you really wanted to, you could answer ‘no’ and be telling the truth. The sky at dawn is just a little different than the sky at night right?” A few of the bolder ones bolted to the door and, upon finding it stuck fast, started to shake it vigorously.

The problem with the Riven Man being run by degenerates is that they didn’t care about code. There was no fire exit.

“And so instead, I’ve found where a lie comes from. The frontal lobe houses a lot of functions, and is where lying can originate. The next problem I had was pinpointing those areas but, again, the mind is a tricky thing.” Flug went on and then depressed the switch on his tab. A few of the people closest to him flinched but, when nothing happened and there was no noise, they relaxed.

“What the fuck did you do to the door?” One of the hopeful escapees questioned.

“Magnets.” Flug replied offhandedly. “What you should be asking is what did I just switch off?” 

“What..?” One of the men nearest him drifted but was interrupted when a woman by the pool table suddenly crashed the pool stick against the edge, snapping it in half.

“What the fuck!” The bartender asked while the woman looked at the stick in her hands.

“The frontal lobe controls things like language, spontaneity, and impulse control. I just turned that off.” Flug stated. The earpieces he wore hummed gently, countering the electromagnetic waves that radiated out of his device. “Things are going to get progressively uglier until I switch this off.”

A man on his right lunged at him and Flug, grabbing a chair, flung the piece of furniture at him. It collided with the moving body and they both clattered to the ground. 

“That’s, fucked.” A woman struggled to speak and looked frustrated. Flug sighed audibly now.

“I need to know who’s been looking for my boss.” He said.

“Tons!” The pool stick woman blurted. “Jobs.”

Some people succumbed to the device quicker than others it seemed.

“Not for a job. Someone wanting to know more about Black Hat himself.” Flug corrected. Many in the bar shuddered at the name and Flug smiled. 

It took about half an hour to get an answer.

In that time, one man had gone for Flug’s bag and was electrocuted, someone broke their shoulder against the magnatized door, and a third attempted to break a window, but all of the windows were of reinforced safety glass and unbreakable. 

That one was on them again not following code.

The usual response to this device, though, was wonton violence. People who were scared and angry started to lash out. The ones that attacked Flug outright were stunned with his taser. Seeing that avenue turn into a dead end, the others turned on themselves like caged animals. A few were unconscious in a pool of their own blood, while one or two were most certainly dead.

It was the pool stick woman who finally broke.

“I don’t know! Never heard of the thing. But I know who did.” She held a towel to her broken nose and glared at him as she spoke. “Agent 6.”

Flug’s stomach tightened but he just pushed up on the switch. Everyone in the bar crumpled and Flug made for the door, grabbing his bag as he passed. Pressing his thumb against the latch, the magnet on the other side of the door fell and Flug was able to exit. 

The night air was cold and fresh. His breath condensed into a warm cloud the curled out from under the bag. The flickering neon of the bar sign in the window behind him made his fractured shadow pulse on the dark gravel. 

“Shit.” Flug muttered. The red light blinked its cold, gaseous light and his shadow deepened.

“What’s the problem?”

“Agent 6 wants me dead.” Flug’s shoulders dropped and he put a hand under the bag to rub his face. He regretted it instantly, hating the feel of nitrile against his skin. 

“And?” The shadow splintered and shot outward from his feet. 

“It’s easy for you to say.” Flug retorted. The shadow twisted around, running over the gravel without disturbing it.

“He knows how the game is played. He got in our way, people died.” The shadow skittered around behind Flug, back toward the bar.

“I’m pretty certain he doesn’t care Jefe.” Flug muttered, mostly to himself. Black Hat didn’t respond, to that at least.

“Can you use those bodies?” Black Hat inquired. Not looking back, Flug just shrugged.

“Sure.” 

The shadow darted back into the bar. 

It was years ago, when they were first starting to transition from gun runner to villain outfitter. Tentative investments had been made in small villainous businesses, personalized treatment plans for failing villains, and a few highly specialized gadgets had been put on the market. 

Which meant they were getting noticed. 

There had been a few run-ins with heroes. Street level ones mostly - the local guys and gals in spandex who wanted to clean up their neighborhoods. They were easy to get rid of - and Black Hat was always good at dealing with the bodies - but it was only a matter of time before the League got involved. 

They were not a high tech operation. Advertisements leaked over into daytime television and bewildered civilians bombarded their cable providers with complaints. Not wanting the hassle of using burner phones - as Flug continuously lost them - they had a landline in a warehouse. They were so painfully obvious that it was assumed it was a front. 

“We’ll get muscle.” Black Hat kept assuring him.

“Who?” Flug shot back.

“Who cares? Build some.”

When pressure started to build, especially after a small southern country fell to a costumed dictator, Black Hat decided to hold their debut.

“It’s time to go public my little doctor.” Black Hat stated and Flug just felt sick. 

They had known for months that the League had tapped a satellite group to find a way to Black Hat. The group was a trio posing as potential customers, looking to make a fairly large purchase. Not too large that they should question the small group, but big enough that it necessitated the Black Hat Organization’s work. 

“Make contact.” Black Hat told him. So he did.

Flug had known about Agent 6’s team from when he worked for the League. They had more of the antihero theme going for them and while housed within the League’s records - and financials - they were not officially one in the same. 

Heroes for hire. Mercenaries with morals. Good guys with guns.

Flug had never really minded them.

When it was time for the deal to go through, Black Hat decided he wanted a stand-in. He was fine meeting people in his own space, but avoided any other forms of interaction. As they were set to meet in the ruins of an abandoned factory, Black Hat had no desire to actually meet with the heroes. 

“You’ll go.” Black Hat ordered. So he went.

Because of their “too obvious to be real” front, people assumed Flug was some sort of cyber genius. Technical genius, absolutely, but Flug didn’t know much about anything that happened virtually or through the Internet. Still, he set up the communication stand - a simple laptop on a podium with wheels. He stood in the shadows. He waited.

They, being attached to the League, knew the guy in the bag.

They didn’t know the thin, gangly man with splotchy skin and mismatched eyes. Flug shook as he waited. He stared at them as he shot them. He looked down impassively at their dead bodies as Black Hat spoke with Agent 6, hiding some distance away, trying to find out where they were broadcasting from. 

Flug did as he was told.

Agent 6 had been expelled from the League. No hero group would touch him, and the man had walked into the gray area of dealing in information. He wouldn’t, however, work with anyone that was a Black Hat subsidiary. Demencia had run into him a couple of times and reported back, “He’s got a face more marked up than yours Flug, and he wants you dead.” 

At least the lines were clear. 

They had, for the most part, not intersected since then. 

“He knows something and I want to know who he’s told.” Black Hat said once they returned to the vill. Flug’s second shadow stretched away from him and detached, pooling into a heap on the floor. Pulling himself up, Black Hat materialized and smoothed down the collar of his shirt. 

“If he’s sold us out, he’s not going to want to help us Boss.” Flug replied and started walking back to his lab. He paused, turning to Black Hat. “And we’re not torturing him.” Black Hat looked bored.

“Torture is one of the least effective ways to get information out of humans.” He said. Flug sighed, heavily, and stalked back into his lab. Black Hat followed him.

“Then it’s a dead end.” Flug sat back at his work table and picked up his pencil. He pointedly did not look as Black Hat walked in. 

“I said torture was the least effective. That implies that there are other, more effective ways to get what I need.” Black Hat said. Flug still did not look up, but began sketching lines and writing down numbers in his small, neat hand. 

“What, bribe him? I’m sure the man’s sweet tooth will surely outweigh any animosity he has toward us after we ruined his life.” 

“Ruined his life? Doctor, you are aware we have directly caused the deaths of thousands.” Black Hat was amused by the very human ability to disconnect from others’ suffering. It wasn’t even the phenomena of numbers too large in a place too far away to comprehend. They no longer cared when a couple of children are killed in a school half a block away.

“None of those thousands have the means and motive to kill me.” Flug replied callously. 

“I need to know what he knows.” Black Hat repeated. Flug threw his pencil down and sat back in his chair.

“Do you know how many businesses we own? We have a literal army we hire out to the highest bidder. Two countries are being run by dictators we outfitted. Are you telling me that I am somehow the only one who can get what we need?” 

“The people that pay  _ us _ are lacking. They’re imperfect. We are here to fix those imperfections.”

“As you are fond of telling me,” Flug interrupted, his voice dripping with scorn. “I am also far from perfect.” Black Hat smiled his too wide smile and crept closer.

“Ah but my little doctor, you are something wanted by so many.” Black Hat loomed over Flug, casting shadows that were thrown by no light source.  “And you are in my employ, aren’t you.”

Flug always did what he was told.

There was a process to crossing over between realms. To make things even more complicated, there was the difference between realms, planes, and stasis. If the universe was a house, a realm was another house, adjacent but separate. A plane was a locked room inside of the house, and only a few could open it. Being in stasis was when an entity was not awake, and could reside in the house next door, the locked room in the attic, or under the bed. 

It was easier to summon an entity that was in stasis but in the same room. Harder to summon one from the locked room, worse if they are in stasis, and nearly impossible to open the locked door and enter. It followed that the entities next door were even harder to summon and held to the same degrees. 

Cthulhu was already here, sleeping under the crushing depths of the planet’s oceans. Beelzebub was in an adjacent plane and hopped back and forth so frequently there almost wasn’t a door. 

Black Hat had come from next door. 

When they came over of their own accord, it took an immense amount of energy. It was why most of them were waiting, turning into elders. Only a few juveniles ever tried before the correct era arrived, and most of them were obliterated in the crossing. It was a safety measure for the rest of the life that lived in the universe. 

When their kind was called, there was a summoning sickness that followed. It was a another attempt at protection, to tip some of the favor back to the humans that erringly completed the rituals. The summoning sickness was always severe enough to daze them, and allowed them to be bound, killed, or sent back. 

In order to call and bind one of them, the humans had to know the entity’s name. They had learned this instinctively, and their ancient stories were full of the rule. The first man named all of the living creatures, a god could demand animals to do his bidding if he called them by their name, a stunted man could be banished by his name alone.

Names were given on certain days, certain names were given but never used, some names could only be used by specific people, some people were given new names when they took on an important job.

A human’s life could be inexorably tied to a name, no matter if they change it or run from it. A whole play revolved around a pair dying because of their names. 

So Black Hat had guarded his. He was a rarer sort, whatever previous versions of his timeless self must have kept to their side. Some men who thought themselves clever once created characters in another man’s story and made money from it. Some people thought themselves clever and built up lore around those new characters.

Luckily, the ones who ever attempted any sort of summoning did so halfheartedly and the ones like Black Hat demanded passion.

He did not know how a summoning would work now. There was no barrier to cross and he was wide awake, so stasis was not an issue. If someone had his name - well, had it and could pair it with his person - what could they really do?

In his normal state, a binding wouldn’t work. It took summoning sickness for a human, or many humans, to successfully complete a bind. But he had made himself mortal. He had shed his reality melting form. Madness was something he had to inflict, not something that happened naturally. 

It was a slim possibility, to pick the correct name out of a mass market paperback and then be able to conduct the ritual properly. It was too obvious, sitting in collection written by some hack.

But maybe Agent 6 had learned a little something about hiding in plain sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! But I am trying to get a book and a novella of my own original writing ready and submitted to some literary contests. So I'm still going to be MIA for awhile.
> 
> Short update today, but I wanted to put something out. 
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone sticking with me!
> 
> Jesus I am trash. AGENT 6 BELONGS TO theinsanefruitloop-chan and you can find a little bit about him here: http://theinsanefruitloop-chan.tumblr.com/post/163904327249/hes-my-villainousoc-and-will-scrap-him-later-he
> 
> I stole his origin story from fruitloop but everything that follows is my own design. She does great work, go follow her!


	7. 7

It took three days to arrange the meeting. Three days to contact and negotiate. Eventually it was accomplished, with Lady Ace serving as an intermediary. Agent Six demanded a rather large sum of money and one requisite: Flug had to go alone. 

Black Hat barely blinked at the demand, though he seethed at the price tag. 

“You’re sending me to die.” Flug shouted.

“That was inevitable. I just never imagined it would be so expensive.” Black Hat replied and waved him away. Flug went thundering back to his lab, overturning tables and throwing hatbots at beakers. He had killed those people on Black Hat’s command, done it because it was required of him. The understanding had been, had always been, that Flug would be protected.

A handshake in an alley had made this a promise. 

The meeting was to be held, appropriately, in the conference room of an abandoned high rise building in the city. Some idealistic company had erected twenty floors and hastily covered it in a patchwork of glass, plastic sheeting, and plywood. Somewhere along the way, the money ran out and it was left unfinished. Five years later, the slow decay now froze the building in a horrific combination of the unborn and the rotting.

Flug didn’t much care about the aesthetics, only that he had to power the elevator and manually control its ascent.

The building wasn’t quiet. The wind whistled as it curled around splintering wood or through tattered plastic. Pests of all sorts scurried or fluttered through the exposed walls and ceilings. As Flu walked down the hall, he heard the subdued cooing of nesting birds. His footsteps make no sound on the concrete floor.

No doors were fitted into the empty frames and they gaped like dry sockets onto the hall. With no drywall up, the walls were similarly exposed but still gave the idea of boundaries. Flug passed identical rooms, filled with identical debris. 

At the back of the building, opposite the bank of unpowered elevators, was a large conference room. It must have been a place where the builders met and took their lunches, as it was the only room with furniture. A large conference table, caked in dust, stood next to a huddle of wooden office chairs. Moldy blueprints and piles of faded aluminum cans gathered in the corners of the room.

Seated at the table, feet up and scuffing the petrified layer of dust, was Agent Six.

It had been many years since their last meeting, and Six was now sporting fresh scars and an eyepatch. Flug was used to being stared at through one hateful eye.

“I’d get up,” Six started idly. “But it’s taking all of my self control not to kill you where you stand.” Flug rolled his eyes as he walked closer to the table.

“I appreciate your strength of will.” He replied dryly and touched a hand to the tabletop. He did not disturb the dust.

“What do you want Slys?” Six asked and Flug flinched. 

“I want to know who’s been asking about my boss.” He answered, staring at the other man. Six shrugged and turned to look out in the hall.

“Lots of people ask about him.”

“About his name.” Flug clarified. That one hateful eye drifted back to look at Flug. The lids narrowed and he could see Six’s face tighten.

“I don’t know anything about his name.”

“Ace said-” Flug stopped and took a step back as Six jumped out of his seat. The chair he vacated was not prepared for such a leaving, and it went clattering to the floor on its back. 

“ _ Ace _ needs to stop thinking she knows everything.” 

“Right, that’s you.” Flug shook his head. “I just want to know who’s been asking.” Six laughed, derisively.

“If I gave out the name of my clients, I’d be out of business.”

“You’ll be put out of business if you don’t give me a name.”

“A threat? That’s rich. You can’t touch me, I know what you need.”

“If you know, then there’s someone else who told you.” Six straightened and his face smoothed out with surprise. Then he smiled, a normal human smile and so it did not unnerve Flug, but it was broad and predatory nonetheless. 

“Touchè Slys. However, I don’t think you’d get anything out of  _ him _ either.” Six crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “I’m pretty sure he and your boyfriend are birds of a feather.”

“He’s not,” Flug cut himself off with a sigh, and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He continued, muttering to himself. “Why does everyone assume that?” 

“The League told me you were a freak. I just thought it had to be about that BDSM club you went to.” Flug’s fingers lifted away and he stared forward, feeling his mouth dry. “You seemed pretty close to that one woman though. Janice…?” As Six trailed off, Flug slowly turned, his arm lowering. 

“If you think you can leverage her to get to me, you’re mistaken.” He said evenly.

“I guess other people’s lives don’t matter much to you huh?” Six asked and now Flug laughed in derision. 

“Of course not. I’m a genius, I can’t be bothered by mediocre people.” Six’s face twisted.

“Mediocre? My team-” Six had started forward, but caught himself and bit off the rest of his statement. He let out a breath and smoothed the front of his jacket. “You know what Slys, I’ll tell you who’s been looking for your  _ boss _ . For a price.” 

“You’ve been paid.” Flug countered.

“To meet with you and not kill you. I didn’t say anything about supplying information.” Six replied and Flug sighed heavily. 

“What do you want Six?” Flug asked, parroting Six’s earlier tone. 

“I think it’s pretty obvious.” A pause, a flicker of movement, and an eruption of sound. As the gunshot pierced forward, Flug didn’t move. His masked face was incapable of expression, but Six grinned. Then, as Flug’s form flickered, his smile faded. “Wha-”

Twin needles jammed into his back and Six was flooded with electricity. He turned as he fell and he watched Flug walk into the conference room, disengaging the taser gun and dropping it to the floor.

“What, were you going to crouch down and say something emotional about your team before revealing the name as I died?” Flug stepped over Six’s twitching body and stood at the man’s head. “That’s incredibly cliched.”

“Fuck you.” Six forced out as he tried to suppress a groan. Flug casually reached into his coat and pulled out a dart gun and case. He set down the case on the table and flipped it open.

“I have a bunch of darts here. Depending on your level of cooperation, I could pick a nasty one or a ah ah ah!” Flug noticed as Six began to reach for his gun. Flug stomped on Six’s head and held his foot there as he bent down and picked up the gun. “Fine, cliches.” He stood and put the gun on the table. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” 

When he removed his foot, Six crawled onto his hands and knees. 

“I’ll kill you.” Six said weakly, his head hanging down. 

“Maybe later. I need information.” Flug plucked out a dart from the case and loaded it into the gun. “I really would recommend you take a practical look at your options here.” Six rolled his head up and glared at Flug, who shrugged, holding the dart gun loosely in his hand. 

With a groan, Six threw himself upward and stumbled into the wall behind him. In the movement, he reached into his jacket and deftly threw one slender blade. 

Flug’s head snapped back but he kept hold of the dart gun. For a moment, Flug paused and Six grabbed another blade. Then Flug’s head fell forward, the blade sticking out of a crackling goggle lens. As Six went to throw the next blade, Flug whipped the dart gun up and shot it. The dart jammed itself into Six’s leg and the blade went spinning uselessly past Flug. 

“Synthetic venom. It’s congealing your blood and your death is going to be incredibly painful.” At that moment, Six clutched his leg and started screaming. Flug wrenched the blade out of his lens and tossed it aside. “Start talking Six.” 

“The Lycan.” Six shouted. A very small, very remote part of him noted the spasm of Flug’s hand at the mention of the name. 

“What did you tell him?” Flug asked. By now, he knew, the venom was travelling down through the veins and capillaries just as fast as the man’s wild heart was pumping. 

“It’s a sci fi book! First edition. Everything’s in the book.” Six fought to talk but succumbed to inarticulate screaming. 

“Thanks Six. You can put the cost on my tab.” Flug said as he reloaded the gun. Even with his vision partially compromised, Flug shot Six in about the same place, both darts now jutting out of the man’s thigh. Six’s one eye rolled upward and he toppled back through the bones of the wall. 

Letting out a shaky breath, Flug pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. He remembered The Lycan in his apartment. Putting a hand to his ribs, Flug remembered. 

Sighing, Flug put the dart gun on the table and unhooked his goggles. Turning them over in his hand, he looked at the splintering glass of the damaged lens. The VR app had worked perfectly and many times Flug had found himself instinctively moving with his hologram avatar. 

Lightly touching the broken lens Flug sighed again. His hands went limp and they fell in a heap with the goggles into his lap. Looking over at Six’s unconscious body, he shook his head. It would have been simpler to rig the elevator, or shoot him when he had arrived at the building. But heroes, and most villains for that matter, had to make a show of everything. Six wanted Flug to feel something about his past actions. Flug didn’t necessarily enjoy killing, but neither did he regret it. The only reason he felt negatively toward the killing of Six’s team is that it had painted a target on his own back.

But Six wanted to see guilt or shame or something. He wanted to prove a moral high ground and he couldn’t do that if he did the smart thing and obliterated Flug from the outset. Flug’s real talent, his real work, was wasted on making these inventions for villains who wanted to humiliate, or just gloat. 

Flug stood from the chair and pressed a button in his pocket. A pair of bots glided into the room. One went to collect the muted drone that had broadcast the hologram while the other skittered up the table. It opened and Flug pulled out a small white box. He left it on the table, as a gift. There was a bakery around the corner that made an excellent tiramisu. 

Flug walked wordlessly out of the conference room, rehooking his goggles. The left lens was now compensating for the loss of the right and Flug had his full range of vision back. Right next to the conference room was a stairwell, a map outlining the best fire escape route in red plastered right next to the heavy metal door. Pushing through, he heard the cold clunk of the bar engaging and felt the change in temperature as he entered the covered stairwell. The door slammed shut behind him and as the bots raced down the stairs before him, Flug paused and put his hand back into his pocket. He pulled out his cellphone and swiped in a number.

It rang as he brought it to his ear.

“Janice?”

Returning to the Villa, Flug was surprised to find Mahtab and Inderpal waiting in the foyer. Inderpal grinned brightly at him and nodded his head in greeting, while Mahtab didn’t move. Both of them held tea cups, and Flug glanced pointedly at the one Mahtab held. 

As usual, Mahtab was completely covered by her burqa and even the weave of her face mask was such that Flug couldn’t see her eyes. Covered as he was, Flug still recognized how unnerving it was and so he avoided her. Both Mahtab and Inderpal spoke Urdu and they would talk between themselves, further discomforting Flug. 

“Ace is here then?” Flug asked. Inderpal kept smiling.

“Yes, our lady is with the evil one.” The man replied and Flug nodded curtly before continuing inside. As he walked past, the pair began to speak softly in Urdu. 

Flug went to the staircase just as 5.0.5 came tottering through the foyer with a plate of sweets. Like their lady, both Mahtab and Inderpal seemed fond of the creature and 5.0.5 relished the attention. Still, it was something to note that he wasn’t doting on Ace, who was the only other person beside Flug who petted him. 

Walking briskly up the stairs, Flug could hear the low murmur of voices start to form ahead of him. Black Hat’s office door was open and Flug walked in.

“I told you he’d be fine.” Black Hat said and Lady Ace whirled around. She had removed her faceplate and her marred features were made ugly by her anger. Seeing Flug, her face relaxed and she smiled. 

“ _ Mestizito. _ ” Her voice sighed as she walked up to him. As she embraced him, Flug looked past her to Black Hat. Still speaking in Spanish, Ace leaned away from him, bringing his attention back to her.

“What happened to your goggles?” She demanded.

“He got lucky.” Flug replied, also in Spanish. Ace frowned and shook her head as she stepped back. She turned sharply back to Black Hat.

“You were  _ supposed _ to go with him.” She snapped, reverting back to normal speech, and Black Hat glared back at her. 

“Just because you are inexplicably attached to your minions doesn’t mean I need to be.” He hissed.

“Oh? And why didn’t you want to sell his contract again?” She retorted and Black Hat literally hissed at her. 

“It’s fine.” Flug said forcibly. “I’m fine.” Ace made a sound in frustration and walked back to Black Hat’s desk.

“What did you find out Flug?” Black Hat asked and glanced over as Ace reattached her faceplate. 

“Apparently your name appears in a sci fi book, in the first edition. The Lycan is looking for it.” Flug said. 

“Who’s The Lycan?” Black Hat asked. He noted that Ace’s hands froze at the side of her face as the name was said. 

“He’s the League’s wild card. Whenever he’s in residence, he’s used as an enforcer or extra muscle.” Flug explained blandly. “He doesn’t like me.” Black Hat noted how one of Flug’s hands twitched in the direction of his side. Black Hat narrowed his eye. 

“And he said a sci fi book?” Black Hat repeated and Flug nodded. He knew the book, had made sure the publisher had excised any mention of him from subsequent printings. It was ink pressed onto pulp and never made it to any sort of popularity, but it was part of a mythos. People bought it to add it to a collection and his name was out there, sitting on bookshelves, next to books emblazoned with names like “Cthulu” and “Hastur.” 

His ritual was easier than some others, but it required a burning desire so Black Hat had never been keen on working through the tedium of collecting all the books. 

That was proving to be a very large misstep. 

“Did he say who told him about the book?” Black Hat questioned and Flug shook his head.

“No, only that his source has something in common with you.” He answered. Black Hat bristled and black shards jutted out from his body. 

“My erstwhile brother.” He muttered, relaxing the tendrils, and both Flug and Ace started.

“You have a brother?” Flug asked. Black Hat raised an eyebrow. 

“We were birthed by the same maternal planet, so I assume that equates to us being brothers. I have numerous siblings.” He replied. Flug said nothing but saat down, hard, in the chair opposite of Black Hat. 

“More of you.” Flug murmured and Ace patted his shoulder. 

“Why would The Lycan be looking for my name?” Black Hat asked suddenly and Flug looked up. 

“I don’t know.” He said quickly. Too quickly.

“Flug.” Black Hat growled.

Ace kept her hand on Flug’s shoulder and angled her body slightly to be more in front of his.

“The Lycan approached me a number of months ago, asking about you.” Black Hat turned his snarl to her, but she only cocked her head slightly.

“You could have saved me a lot of money by telling me that in the first place.” He seethed. 

“He wasn’t asking about your name at the time. Only tried to ascertain the nature of our, relationship. Looking for a weakness or access point.” Ace went on.

“That would still have been useful information Ace.” Black Hat said. Ace shrugged and finally removed her hand from Flug. 

“I am neither a client nor employee here, so I didn’t have to tell you anything.” Ace held out her hands and Black Hat could feel her smug smile behind the smooth plate. “I offer all of this out of the goodness of my own heart.” Ace then clapped her hands together. “Now, where is Demencia? A convenience store is offering a ridiculous special on filling containers with Freezies and I intend to exploit that to it’s inevitable end.” Flug slapped a hand to his face as Black Hat sighed impatiently. 

“In her room probably. Leave.” Black Hat said briskly. 

“Just a moment.” Ace said and Flug looked up to see her extending her hand. “Truce?” Black Hat eyed the hand and glanced up at the impassive faceplate. 

“You should be wary of shaking hands with a demon.” Black Hat said as he stood. Ace didn’t even waver. 

“You should be wary of the mortals you meet. I can be an excellent fiddler.” She replied. Black Hat smiled, his unearthly green tinged grimace, and black tendrils curled over the desk.

“Fine. Truce.” Black Hat replied and grasped her hand. Ace gripped it and used her other hand to plunge a large syringe into his hand. Flug stood just as Black Hat ripped his hand away, carving a large gash into his hand as he did. Ace seemed nonplussed as she held up the syringe and examined the black thing curling in the glass. 

“How dare you.” Black Hat yelled and Flug tightened. Ace pulled out a hard backed case and ignored Black Hat as he grew in size and multiplied his tentacles. 

“I just needed a sample.” Ace said as Black Hat loomed over her. His jaw swung freely from his mouth, as though the tendons had been removed. His breath, hot and acidic, brushed over her and Flug. 

“For what.” The sound rumbled up from somewhere deeper in Black Hat’s chest and echoed through his cavernous maw. Tentacles were gripping his desk so hard, it was starting to groan under the stress. Ace just continued to pack up the syringe. 

“For science.” She replied. Shadows crept up from her feet and where they slithered up her body, only void could be seen. Flug’s throat tightened but Ace seemed relaxed. As the shadows crept higher and Black Hat loomed closer, Ace pulled out a slim, ivory wand out of her coat. Black Hat recoiled and the shadows receded a little. 

“That’s…” Black Hat’s voice was almost completely guttural and it rumbled through Flug like a deep bass. 

“A wand of Bes. Picked it up on holiday.” Ace replied. Black Hat slithered backward, taking his shadows with him. Ace turned to Flug and cocked her head to the side conspiratorilly as she tucked the wand back into her coat. 

“It takes a demon to fight a demon.” She said and then turned back to Black Hat. “I told you not all mortals are helpless.”

“Do you honestly think I won’t kill you later?” Black Hat shot back.

“Try. It’ll keep me on my toes.” Ace turned and waved to Flug. “I will see you later  _ mi cielito _ .” She walked out and Black Hat watched her go. As she exited, Flug sat back down and looked at Black Hat.

“Why didn’t you kill her?” Flug inquired as Black Hat returned fully back to his usual form. Cracking his neck, Black Hat faced his scientist. The broken goggle lens flickered with spastic light and, now and again, a spark would spurt out. 

“She has a reason for what she does. And I want to see what happens. If she tries something, I have full faith in my ability to end her miserable life.” He answered. “I allow too many of you to take liberties.” He added darkly and Flug’s shoulders hunched inward. 

“Were you hurt?” Black Hat asked suddenly and Flug’s head snapped up. 

“Sir?” Flug reached up and tentatively touched the broken lens. “No.” 

“Let me see.” Black Hat ordered. Flug sighed and unhooked the goggles. He lowered them and Black Hat growled, low and deep in his throat. A hole was punctured through the bag; as the kevlar weave was weaker near the eye holes it was still a testament to Six’s skill that the blade had broken through.

“The  _ bag _ Flug.” Black Hat demanded. Groaning, Flug pulled off the bag. A small gash under his eye, blood already dried and tacky. Tendrils, thin and barely substantial, ran up his cheek and inspected the cut. 

Had the blade been thrown just centimeters higher and with a bit more force, Flug would have lost the eye. Had he not been wearing his goggles, he could have died. 

The human body was fragile enough without having gaping vulnerabilities like eyes. 

“Who is The Lycan, Flug?” Black Hat asked tenderly. Flug hesitated and stayed quiet while he tugged the bag back over his head. 

“He just, didn’t like me. He’s very into the superhero code when it suits him but otherwise, he’s just an abusive prick.” Flug replied. He examined the goggles again before hooking them back onto his face.

“Did he hurt you?” Black Hat pressed. Flug stared back at him, for once their gazes balanced. 

“Lots of them hurt me. But if you start going after the League, we’re going to have bigger problems.” Flug pushed himself up out of the chair. “I’m going to fix my goggles.” Black Hat watched the scientist go. And he thought.

Opening the small center drawer of his desk, Black Hat pulled out a crisp white card. Xir had warned him to stay out of his way, perhaps it was Black Hat’s turn to place boundaries.

The battered copper bell over the door tinkled gently. Lucille looked up from her book as a man entered the store. Wearing a ballcap pulled down and a jacket with the collar turned up, Lucille wondered if he had entered the wrong store. The Adult Video Center was four doors down. 

“Can I help you sir?” She asked, cautiously, from behind her desk. The man approached and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.  _ Oh shit _ , Lucille thought to herself,  _ I’m being robbed. _

“I’m looking for this book.” He said as he unfolded the paper and slid it over to her. Lucille put a finger to the paper and pulled it closer to herself. Seeing the title, she frowned in confusion. He didn’t look like the sci fi type.

"I think this book is still in print. You can find it online.” Lucille said, tapping the paper now and looking up at the man. He was scowling.

“I need the first edition. They don’t carry it anymore.” He said, sounding angry. Lucille’s eyes widened briefly, not voicing the sarcastic reply that popped into her head. Instead, she took the paper and turned to her computer, pulling up her inventory database.

"Well, we specialize in out of print.” She chirped automatically as she typed. 

“That’s what the last five places said.” She heard the man mutter and her left eye twitched. She hated customers. Hated them with every fiber of her being. 

“Here it is. Looks like we only have one copy.” She turned and handed the paper back to the man. “Sci fi is next to fantasy at the back. The books are alphabetical by author.” The man took the paper, refolded it, and grumbled out a “thank you” before walking away.

Lucille hoped, as she did many times every day, that a small, localized earthquake would hit and send the tall bookshelves toppling over. Perhaps on that man with the ballcap and stupid jean jacket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT LIVES!
> 
> Holy crap, it took me forever to figure out how this chapter was going to go. Let's keep going!
> 
> Agent Six belongs to @theinsanefruitloop-chan and you should check out her Tumblr because it's heckin' great.


	8. Interlude

Flug sat at his workbench, turning the goggles over in his hands. The throwing knife had gone straight through; the only thing that had saved his eye was the fact that the internal structure had diverted the point. 

And because he had not expected to ever go out into the field again, he hadn’t created a backup pair of this model.

Still wearing the bag, Flug set down his broken goggles before grabbing an old pair and fitting them on. They had limited visual adaptations and the HUD was barely functional. Flug had never been one to keep a collection of outdated inventions, but he had recognized the need for a safe mode pair for when he did repairs. 

“How’s it going Bug Eyes?” Demencia chirped as she walked into the lab. Flug grimaced, but only pulled out his tool box.

“Did you need something?” He asked, with no small amount of irritation.

“I wanted to see how your visit with Six went.” She replied as she hopped up on the end of the work bench. Flug wedged a small flat head screwdriver under the broken lens and snapped it up. The rim held most of the glass in place so the larger pieces came out together. Flug shook out shards onto the tabletop. 

“It was fine.” He sad shortly. Demencia reclined down the length of the table, propping her head up on her hand.

“Do you remember when I first got here?” Demencia asked suddenly. Flug didn’t answer right away, but yanked out a small clump of wires. 

“It’s all sort of a blur with ever subsequent time you showed up and I had to get rid of you.” He replied and Demencia giggled.

That wasn’t completely true however. He distinctly remembered the day Demencia had first shown up, though it wasn’t the first time he directly interacted with her. It was after Black Hat had demanded a ransom from the city nearby and then still had Flug destroy it after the money had been paid. The Internet had exploded with news about the Black Hat Organization and hopeful minions and hordes of fans had begun showing up.

For some reason, Flug had been surprised by the raving fanatics. He shouldn’t have, as they were usually the same people who posted pictures of serial killers wearing flower crowns.

The electrified fence, the dog hybrid monsters, and the sub sonic disruptor had done a good job repelling the unwanted visitors. 

Flug had been in the middle of feeding a much smaller 5.0.5 when the proximity alarm went off. A swarm of bots had gone clattering down the hall, heading outside to neutralize the threat. Unfortunately, the fact that someone had managed to make it over the fence meant that Black Hat would hold Flug responsible.

Panicking slightly, Flug had locked 5.0.5 in his room and followed after the bots.

Standing in the open front door, Flug watched as the bots fell upon the intruder.

He ducked as one came sailing back at his head, crashing into the doorframe.

With a lunatic’s laugh, a massive mace cut a swath through the bots. Flug was able to see a flash of neon pink and florescent green before the bots swarmed again.

Pressing a button on the pad by the door, the remaining bots detonated and Flug’s goggles caught the biometric signature of the intruder within the explosion.

The intruder survived. 

The explosion did, however, act as a deterrant and the pink and green thing retreated back to the fence. The figure scrambled up the tall metal bars, seemingly immune to the electricity, and fell in a heap on the other side. It then scampered away.

Demencia showed up every day, getting closer to the villa each time, for eight consecutive months.

Black Hat never once intervened, telling Flug she was his problem. On the last day, when Demencia had crawled up into a corner of the high ceiling in the foyer, Flug gave up.

“Now she’s  _your_  problem!” He had yelled up toward Black Hat’s office. As no reply, or retribution, was forthcoming, Flug instead went back to the lab, slamming the metal door behind him.

Later, in the early hours before dawn, Flug found her curled up with 5.0.5.

She had seemed to be just as indestructible as the bear, but she would never allow Flug to restrain her to examine her. Biting, snarling, and spitting, Flug usually ended up worse for wear when he tried to wrangle her. It was only worth the effort when he forced her to bathe, to maintain some semblance of hygiene. 

He did get her motive out of her, as she repeatedly professed her undying love for Black Hat. Obsession could do just as well as blind loyalty, and her unusual attributes made her a useful if chaotic minion, so Black Hat resolved to keep her.

And so Flug was stuck with her.

“Why do you ask?” Flug asked as he plucked out a microchip. Using his wrist, he switched on the magnification setting and examined the small piece for damage. 

“I always wondered why you didn’t just kill me.” She said and picked up the clump of wires. Laying fully on her back, she held it up above her, idly plucking at wires. 

“I tried.” Flug set the chip aside, deeming it in suitable enough shape to be reused.

“But I mean really.” She countered. Flug opened a drawer and found his case of lenses. 

“I wasn’t told to. Black Hat found it more interesting to keep you alive.” He answered and pulled out a lens.

“And you?”

“I did as I was told.”

“But do you find me interesting?” Flug finally looked at Demencia, though she still was watching her fingers untangle the wires. 

“I find you irritating.” He remarked and Demencia grinned. 

“Do you find Agent Six interesting?” She asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. 

“I think anyone who has made it their life’s mission to kill me deserves a certain amount of attention.” Flug answered evenly.

“But you didn’t kill him.” She stated.

“I do as I’m told.” Flug repeated. He stood, taking the lens to another station so he could coat it. He was, if nothing else, very diligent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My life is a Dumpster fire and I've written myself into a corner with this fic. Changes are coming. CHANGES.
> 
> It'll be fine. Probably. I'm not giving up, but the story has already drastically changed from my initial planning and I think if I'm going to make this "my" Eldritch AU, then I need to go back to the drawing board and plan things out.
> 
> Because these chapters have sucked.
> 
> This chapter was created or a prompt request. I have a blog for Villainous prompt requests if you're interested: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/allhailtheblackhat
> 
> Thank you for reading and please stick with me!


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